A City Of The Past
by StormCity
Summary: [Takes place after the events of the PS4 game] The city is far from safe. Seventeen months after the epidemic that wiped out hundreds of people including his aunt, Peter Parker faces his ultimate challenge yet, a clandestine organization known only as The Rose, which has a horrifying agenda against an unspecified target.
1. From The Shadows

**Hey there Spider-Fans!**

 **First of all, I'll say that the recently released Spider-Man PS4 game by Insomniac was brilliant! No words. I liked the way they portrayed each character so nicely.**

 **So, this story continues fourteen months after what we last saw in the game.**

 **I've been wanting to write this for quite some time now, but managing time could be really very hard at times. Anyways, here I am with the first chapter, and like any other writer, even after editing a lot many times, I'm sure there's room for better.**

 **So please review after reading, and tell me where all I can improve.**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

He found the little room very dingy, promising rage, illness, madness and death. There was no sign of ventilation, nor any cleaning. The air was stale. It was dark and desperate, just like the crumpled man seated opposite him in the wheelchair.

"Otto," he said, setting up a very serious tone, "The staff says you refuse to eat or drink. To go out."

Quiet.

"You don't respond to them?"

Quiet.

"You hardly ever move from your place."

"He can't move anymore, Doctor," the prison officer who stood behind him said.

"Yes I know that. But I've heard he even refuses to be taken outside his cell?"

"He cries and shouts."

"And?"

"We try taking him out, but he simply doesn't let us."

"So what did you do?"

"We received orders to let him be, Sir, if it was good for him and others in any way."

"Why, Otto?" he said, turning around and looking at the man before him.

Silence.

He thought for a while, then turned back to the Prison Officer.

"Perhaps, Officer," he said, "You should leave us to ourselves. Or else I don't think Otto here will talk much."

"But, Doctor-"

"It's alright, Officer. I'll be fine. Don't worry. You may just leave."

"I've got orders-"

"Just leave. I'm the one doctor consulted here, and I'm the one who's telling you. If anything goes wrong with you I'll have the talk with your superior. And shut the door please. Thank you."

"I'll be outside."

"Thank you, that will do. And shut the door."

The Officer reluctantly walked out of the cell and gently closed the door.

"Now, Otto," the man said, after reassuring the door was completely shut, "We may come to more serious talks. You interested?"

Silence.

"Please speak up, Otto, because I haven't got much long."

Otto Octavius slowly looked up and stared him in the eye. His face was pale and tired.

"You aren't a doctor, are you?" he rasped.

* * *

NYPD Captain Yuri Watanabe hardly compromised her work for her personal safety. That was why Spider-Man found the red streak of Taskmaster's sword slice the air just an inch above his head.

The Taskmaster went for another strike at him and Yuri fired her Glock-22.

"Yuri maybe you should just stay back," Spider-Man suggested, spraying a whole lot of webs in an attempt to block Taskmaster's view.

Yuri ignored his advice.

"I've got to get rid of that sword," she said, "You keep him occupied."

"Priority one," he said performing a back flip when Taskmaster swept his legs at him, "You leave that to me, now, go. Hey," he snapped at the mercenary, "Don't you know you shouldn't do that?"

Taskmaster brought down his sword at Spider-Man, who sidestepped just in time and span around so that he and Taskmaster were back to back, and in the second that followed, drew his hands back so that they were wrapped around him, and, arching his back, pulled his opponent forward.

Somehow, he needed to get him down. But he couldn't.

"Right now I only know one thing," Taskmaster said, catching hold of Spider-Man's foot. He flung him across the room.

Spider-Man balanced the fall and landed on his hands.

"And that is?" he said, trying his best to keep the other guy talking so that Yuri could have a hopeless better shot.

"I've been ordered to make sure today is your last day."

"Really?"

Taskmaster chuckled.

"Disappointed?" he asked.

"Why not? You just ruined my day."

Yuri fired again.

The bullet ricocheted off the back of the hooded head. Taskmaster ignored it and lunged at Spider-Man, sword drawn to slice him in half.

Spider-Man dived back and dodged the blow. He webbed Taskmaster's hands and pulled down, separating the sword from the mercenary. He kicked the sword away and booted him straight on the face.

Spider-Man webbed him and then doubled the layer of webbing.

"I remember you escaped the last time I caught you," he said. Yuri picked up the sword. "Why would the people who want to recruit me want me dead?"

Taskmaster chuckled.

"Apparently," he said, "They don't need you anymore."

* * *

"I can tell you're not here for examining my health. So please go ahead with whatever reason you're here for."

The man smiled, which seemed to have surprised Otto Octavius.

"Do me a favour and just tell me all that you know of Norman Osborn," he said.

"You aren't a doctor, are you?"

The man smiled.

"No, I'm not."

* * *

"Who wants to recruit you?" Yuri demanded.

"No idea, Yuri. That's what I'm trying to know."

"You'll be hearing from them soon," Taskmaster said, and with a motion of his hands, tore apart the webbing that held him.

"Yuri," Spider-Man said, "Get out of here with that sword."

"I don't need that to kill you," Taskmaster said, and lunged at Spider-Man.

Before he could react to his spider sense, he was knocked off the ground and all the breath escaped his body with a single gasp. Taskmaster brought his foot down on him. Spider-Man crossed his hands and stopped it.

Yuri Watanabe fired multiple rounds with her Glock-22 straight at Taskmaster's face, throwing him off balance. She lunged at him with the sword drawn.

With one swift motion that Peter would describe as his own, Taskmaster snatched the sword from her hands and with a shove, sent her flying halfway across the room.

"Yuri!" Spider-Man cried, and got to his feet.

He dashed over to her lying on the floor.

"Yuri, please tell me you are alright."

"Yeah," she said, sighing, "I'm fine. But if I were you, I would worry about him. We need to catch him first."

"I know," Spider-Man said, standing up and brushing dirt off his shoulders. He turned around, " _I really hope I'm not mistaken_."

Taskmaster laughed.

"As cliche as it sounds, Spider-Man," he said, "You don't know what you are up against. Storm's coming, and you won't even realize when it blew you away."

"Wow and those were dramatic lines."

The window behind Taskmaster shattered and a figure in a ski mask, dressed in black and a red hood swung in.

The last thing Peter had wanted was to involve Miles Morales in this. He was still a teenager and Peter doubted if he could ever stand against the Taskmaster for even a minute. But he was running out of options lately.

"Legs," Spider-Man cried and pulled at Taskmaster's hands with the help of his webs.

Miles fired his webs at the mercenary's legs from behind and pulled.

The mercenary lost his footing and was swept off ground, hitting the floor face-down. The sword bounced off his hand.

"Well, that was quick," Spider-Man said.

"Totally _awesome_ ," Miles exclaimed.

"Tell me, Taskie," Spider-Man said, leaning down, "What's going on?"

The villain tried to lift his head, but Miles kicked it back down.

"I'm sorry Spider-Man, I can't help you right now. You can only wait and see what happens."

"Help me a little in wrapping him up, will ya" Spider-Man told Miles, "And make sure to block his eye sight."

"Sure thing," Miles said.

"Stopping me is useless, Spider-Man," the mercenary said, "It's just a matter of time. The storm starts today itself."

* * *

"Would you still have your revenge on Norman Osborn if you had gotten the chance?"

The question seemed to have startled Otto.

"I can't. Not anymore."

"Suppose I had made arrangements? Then?"

"Maybe yes," he said after a pause.

The man nodded. He fished inside his jacket and produced a bright red rose.

"Just so you know, there are more things happening around then you can know. Things that are happening right at the moment to be more precise. But that will be all, Otto. Thank you."

* * *

Spider-Man's phone rang.

Mary Jane Watson.

"Hello?" he answered it.

" _Peter, where are you?"_

"Hi! I was at work. Uh…just got over, you know? You called at the right time."

" _Well, that's me. But you sure did miss your other work today."_

"Yeah, I know."

" _I dropped a visit in your restaurant and fortunately for you, I told your boss you had a minor accident today, so you weren't able to show up. So be sure to paint a few bruises next time you go to work."_

"You _what_?"

MJ chuckled.

" _You should be thanking me."_

"Yeah, I guess."

" _You guess?"_

"Thanks, girl."

" _My work's almost done today. What if I come over to your place tonight?"_

"Of course! That would be great, MJ."

" _Alright then, let me sum up. I'll see you tonight."_

"Yeah."

MJ hung up.

"MJ, huh?" Yuri said, a mischievous smile dangling on her lips, walking past him with the glowing sword in her hand.

* * *

"So this puts an end to the Taskmaster chapter," Spider-Man said, perched on the railing at the terrace of the NYPD office.

"Hopefully," Yuri said, unwrapping a mint gum, "If you tell me all about that _hiring you_ business."

"Seriously?"

Yuri gave him such a stern look that he reconsidered his statement.

"Yeah, last time I fought with the guy he said the reason he battled me was to prove if I was worth hiring by the clandestine organization he works for, and I have no idea what it is."

"And?"

"And he said they were offering me in six figures."

"So you were about to accept?"

" _What_? No! Of course not! And why would you think I would do that? Don't you trust me?"

"I am a keeper of the law, Spider-Man, and it is my duty not to take any chances, even if it's you. No, especially if it's you."

"Well, that hurts."

"I'm just being honest, Spider-Man, and I have no intention to hurt you. It's my tendency to double check at times, although I trust you. What's worrying me is the _storm_ he was constantly talking about. Do you have _any_ idea what it is?"

Spider-Man thought hard about all the criminals he had fought lately, recalled all the conversations he had had with the super villains of the city. Nothing clicked.

"No, Yuri, nothing's popping into my head at the moment. Trust me."

"Yeah, that's no problem. We'll figure it out. All I have to do is extract all the info I can out of him."

"Call me when you need me."

Yuri looked at him with kinder eyes. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Spider-Cop."

"You're saying as if this is the last time we worked together."

"No. We might need your help soon. Who knows?"

"That's more like it."

"So where's your sidekick?"

"My _sidekick_? No. He wasn't a sidekick, Yuri. He's just a friend trying to be helpful. I think you scared him. He pretty much flew away after we captured Taskmaster."

"He's a kid, Spider-Man. He could have gotten hurt."

Spider-Man didn't need to hear this. He was already pretty much worried about putting Miles into a hardcore action like today. What if something happened to him? Peter didn't want to take responsibility for another death. Already, he had too much in his shoulder.

"I know," he said, "That's why I didn't want to involve him in the first place. Guess I was running out of options."

"I hope I'll not be seeing much of him again."

"I'll try, Yuri. "

"Good. Now go enjoy with your _MJ_."

Spider-Man froze. He had hoped Yuri would forget about her in the course of the conversation they just had now.

"Uh… _my MJ_?"

"The way you were talking to her, the tone in your voice, it was evident she was _yours_."

"How do you know she's even a girl?"  
Yuri chuckled.

"You had called her _girl_ and besides, you just said _she_. So, don't tell me MJ's a boy?"

"Nah," Spider-Man said, standing up on the railing, "Just my girlfriend. Have a nice day Yuri."

* * *

"Every bite tastes good Peter, only that it lacks a little salt," MJ said biting down a piece of the butter chicken Peter had cooked that evening.

The two of them were seated on the sofa at the moment and were switching through the television channels.

Peter clicked his tongue.

"I knew something was amiss," he complained.

"But don't worry," MJ reassured, peeking his cheek, "You're really getting good at it."

"Hmm, if that's so, then, do you think I should cook this for the Sunday meal tomorrow at FEAST?" Peter asked as he gobbled down a piece, "Give them something good and tasty? Instead of _only_ healthy?"

MJ bit her spoon.

"Maybe you can," she said, "But let me help. It'll take a lot of preparation, you know?"

"That… you'll have to," said Peter as he chewed another piece, "I can't cook for a hundred people all alone! But yeah. This thing _does_ lack some salt."

"Told ya."

Peter grew quiet and laid back onto the couch.

"What's the matter?"

Peter shrugged.

"It's Aunt May's birthday tomorrow."

"Yes. I was about to remind you." MJ tried smiling at Peter. "So, butter chicken it is, tomorrow, then? I just love this dish."

"Yeah, It's an Indian dish I learned beside Cashew chicken."

"Nice, Tiger," MJ said, stroking his hair.

Peter managed a smile, "You know, she always used to joke I was better away from the kitchen then in it."

MJ laughed.

"Yeah," she said, "I remember that."

"Just imagine the surprise she would have had if she knew her nephew now works in a restaurant."

"She would be proud," MJ said, patting Peter on the shoulder.

"She knew I was Spider-Man, and she must have been so worried."

"But she knew you were capable enough to return home safe."

Peter nodded absentmindedly.

"Anyways," he said, "Maybe you should put the spices in the meet tomorrow."

"I think that would be better," MJ said, "Remember you forgot to put pepper in the soup once? You were lucky I was your customer. Or else your boss would have been pretty mad."

"Oh man," Peter said, covering his face, "Don't remind me of that. It was such an embarrassment."

MJ laughed.

"And don't leave any dumplings, okay?" she teased.

"Oh, _give_ me a _break_!"

MJ giggled uncontrollably.

"That was _another_ time you saved me, MJ."

MJ shrugged, still snickering.

Peter's phone rang.

" _Spider-Man?"_ it was Yuri.

"Hey Yuri," Peter said and saw MJ raise a mischievous eyebrow. Peter made a straight face and put the call in the speaker mode.

" _I'm heading over to the RAFT. You need to come over too. Sorry to ruin you evening with MJ."_

Now MJ raised both her eyebrows.

"But, what's going on?" Peter asked, looking and feeling very uncomfortable. "Any luck with Taskmaster?"

" _It's Otto Octavius."_

Peter's head shot up.

"What of him?"

Yuri hesitated for a moment.

" _He's dead. He's…been murdered."_

Peter froze as he felt the ground being swept away from him. His heart began racing. He shivered a little.

 _"Come over,"_ Yuri said and hung up.

He felt MJ's hand on his lap.

She hugged him and he held onto her. She patted him and gently rubbed him in the back.

"Go," she said, giving him a reassuring look, "Go Peter."

"I'm sorry MJ."

"I'll be waiting here for you?"

"If it's fine?"

"Of course."

Peter nodded and disappeared into the next room.

He reappeared a few seconds later in his Spider-Man attire and strode over to the window.

He turned back to MJ.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," he said.

MJ nodded.

"I'll be here," she said.

He pulled up the window pane and dived out into the night.

* * *

 **So here in the first chapter I didn't show much of MJ and Miles. It will be done in the subsequent chapters.**

 **And each time I post, I'll be proofreading and editing the previous chapters. So, before I post the next chapter, this chapter will have undergone further editing.**

 **So, I once again please request you to leave behind your opinions after reading, as they really inspire me to go ahead.**

 **Until next time!**


	2. The RAFT

**If you are on this page, then there's a lot of probability that you've already read the first chapter. Thank you.**

 **I wanna say that I am highly grateful to all the people who liked my story and decided to continue reading. Thanks for following the story. And I can't express my gratitude enough to those who favorited it and also to those who left their opinions.**

 **To the Guest, I am happy that you liked it and I hope you still do now. **

**To CarVie16, you just _might_ have caught on to something, so stay tuned. **

**Zoe , let me just say, thank you. There's a lot of more gratitude in this "thank you" then it seems. You did me a great favour sharing my work with your friends. **

**To Felipe Montenegro, you took the very idea out of my head when I had plotted the events of the second chapter. But, only that, Spider-Man won't be crying here. At least not now. But anyhow, I tried writing a lot of this chapter from Yuri's point of view, and tried portraying her thoughts about the wall crawler.**

 **To the Guest, the one who reviewed fifth, I definitely will be updating again, soon. But this "soon" may be something like once a week? But I'll try to do it sooner.**

 **Anyways, thanks everyone!**

 **Hope you enjoy this too.**

 **And I sort of posted this chapter in a hurry.**

 **Not much time to edit. I will be a little occupied fot the rest of the day, and I wanted to update it today, since it's been one week since I last posted.**

* * *

The two dead men were seated as if they were in a conversation.

Otto Octavius' head had been snapped. There was burned clothing exactly above where his heart was. The skin beneath was burned. The other man had received a serious blow to the head from behind. He had a crushed skull.

Octavius was sitting on his wheelchair with his head lolled sideways, the fingers of his right hand closed around a bright red rose.

The other person was slumped on a plastic chair, his crushed head hanging back.

"Are you sure this is a prison officer?" Yuri asked Derek Henderson, the superintendent of the RAFT.

He nodded.

"Yes, that's officer Marion. Jason Marion. He was new here. Hadn't been much long. Three months?"

Yuri nodded while her assistant scribbled down on a pad.

"When was it that you had discovered the scene?"

"About forty-five minutes ago."

"So the incident happened around a quarter to an hour ago?"

"No," Dr. Carlie Cooper said, standing up from where she was crouched after briefly examining the bodies, "They have been dead for nearly three hours now. Maybe more, actually. Between three to three and a half hour."

Yuri raised her eyebrows at Henderson.

"How was it that you found out so late?" she asked him.

Henderson was surely too stunned to reply.

"We raised the alarm as soon as we found out," he said, running his hand through his hair. He turned to Dr. Cooper, "Are you sure of what you are saying?"

"Hundred percent sure," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Dr. Cooper is the best in forensics we've got at the NYPD. I trust her instincts."

"It's not my instinct, Captain Watanabe," Dr. Cooper said, "It's my conclusion. It's based on observations and true facts."

Yuri nodded. She turned around to look at Spider-Man standing outside the room, his arms crossed. He was lost in thought. And he was unusually quiet right now.

"Spider-Man," she called out to him.

He didn't even move a muscle.

* * *

 _Aunt May wouldn't understand._

" _You did_ what _?" she gasped._

 _Peter shrugged._

" _Yeah, I rejected the offer, Aunt May," he said._

" _Peter," she said, in her famous_ why-are-you-acting-so-weird _tone, "Are you okay? Do you know what you've done?"_

" _May," Peter said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, "I know you are not sure about me doing this, but there's the difference!"_

"Peter, _" she said, her eyes wide, "You just threw away a golden opportunity!"_

 _Peter sighed. He put his hand on her shoulder._

" _Listen, May."_

 _"What?"_

" _Stark Industries is everyone's dream, I couldn't agree more, but that's what, it's already built. I've got different plans. You know the advantage of joining a start-up company, May?"_

" _What kind of an advantage Peter? You do realize that you'll not earn enough to live, don't you? Just...just tell me. What really is this new trend of joining start-up companies?"_

" _It's that you get to do something different. Stark Industries means a specific schedule, a specific routine, and a specified work. You just do this. You do that. You listen to your superiors. Just like machines working, unless you act in the top ranks and get to make the real decisions."_

" _But, isn't that the same with everyone?"_

" _Not necessarily. There's no challenge here, there isn't anything new to learn, no place where you get to do something new everyday. A start-up like Octavius Industries, I will have to work for its development. I will meet new challenges, and I will learn something new. Discover something new. Not just go over and over and just parrot learn what my seniors did."_

 _Aunt May sighed._

 _"Trust me, May," Peter said, holding her hands._

 _"I don't know," she said,_ " _I just hope you don't regret it later."_

" _No, I won't," Peter said, putting up a warm smile, "Besides, Otto's a good man. He wants to change the world. Make it a better place to live in. Just like I do. Just like Uncle Ben did."_

 _She stayed quiet for some time._

" _It's going to be fine," Peter said._

" _Okay."_

" _Doc's a different man, May. He sees things in a much different way than we do. Not your regular big dreamer."_

" _He seems to have a lot of influence on you, Peter."_

" _He's an incredible guy. Uncle Ben would have really liked him"_

"Spider-Man!"

* * *

Yuri called again, this time a little louder.

He shook as if he had just awoken from a dream. For a moment he looked around, as if taking in the surroundings for the first time. Then his eyes fell on the two corpses and he stood still again.

She gestured at him to come in.

He walked in very slowly, nervous and hesitant, like a child going to school for the first time.

"What can I do, Yuri?" he asked.

"Do you recognize the pattern of the killer?"

"No."

"Does the rose in Octavius' hand suggest anything to you?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I don't remember anyone who leaves behind roses with their victims," he said, "Only Otto's got roses, right?"

Henderson nodded.

"Obviously," he said, "Octavius was the target. Marion was just someone in the way."

"How could someone just come in and kill both of them and simply get out?" Spider-Man asked, "Did no one notice?"

"Octavius had an appointment today with a psychiatrist. It must be he who has killed them. Apparently he came out with Marion's uniform, mask and all, and left behind the actual officer, dead, wearing the doctor's clothes."

"Who is in charge of the camera in this wing of the prison?"

"Monitoring duties keep on changing," Henderson said turning around and looking at the camera. He motioned his hand towards it as if commanding it to stop.

Carlie Cooper pulled the rose from Octavius' hand.

"I would advise you didn't smell that, Dr. Cooper," Spider-Man said.

"I know, Web-Head," she said, putting it into a transparent plastic bag, "This goes to the lab. I need to know if it's a real rose, or if it actually burned Octavius' hands."

Yuri looked at where Dr. Cooper was pointing. There, indeed, where he had been holding the rose, Octavius had burned his hand.

Spider-Man went over to examine Octavius. He hesitated. He slowly bent over the seated corpse, and then reeled back.

He stepped away. A move Yuri couldn't reason with.

"He was confined to a wheelchair?" Spider-Man asked Henderson.

Henderson nodded.

"He lost command of his body," he said, "Hands. Legs. All gone useless. Only he could turn his head around and speak."

Spider-Man nodded.

"Take me to the control room," he said, "I need to know what happened."

* * *

The surveillance room was a dimly lit, air conditioned room, most of the light coming from the computers and the huge TV screens. It was absolutely silent even if people raced across the room, except for the hum of the mainframe and the air conditioners.

Henderson was already talking to one of the computer men. He led them to a man who introduced himself as James Walker. Spider-Man and Yuri stood behind him as the computer screen went dark. Within a second the screen showed an empty corridor.

In a moment, the door to Octavius' cell opened and a prison officer in complete gear came out and shut the door behind him. He had only taken a few steps when he paused and walked back and opened the door to the cell.

A man in a plain pink shirt and grey trousers sprang upon him. Jason Marion in the doctor's clothes. The one dressed in the RAFT gear sent his hill straight at Marion's gut, and when the latter bent down in pain, the imposter literally dug his elbow into the back of Marion's head. The late prison officer stilled, and went down. The imposter looked around and carried the body into the cell. He came back out in a minute and shut the door again. Now he hurried away.

"It happened three hours ago," Henderson said, looking at the screen, "The imposter came out three hours and sixteen minutes from now. The problem is, our officers are always in full gear here, which includes the safety helmet they wear. So no one knew it wasn't Marion."

"No one knew?" Spider-Man burst out, "The _camera feed_ shows someone _killing_ an officer _right_ in the corridor, in plain sight, and _no one knew_?"

Yuri turned to Henderson. "Who was monitoring this corridor at the time?"

"There was a change in shift, and we haven't found the man yet," Walker spoke. "The seat was empty when I came in. Upon finding it vacant, I took over."

" _Vacant_? Who was it here before you?" Henderson asked.

"It was Lorentz here, Sir. Edward Lorentz."

"Where is he now?" Yuri asked.

"I don't know, Ma'am. There was a panic in the minute-long blackout and the alarm was raised and nobody questioned Lorentz's whereabouts until now."

"Blackout?" Yuri asked.

"That's what's shocking," Henderson said, "We run twenty-four into seven in full electricity, and in case there is any possibility of power failure, which is practically nil, we have four backup sources which activate even before the main supply goes out. This shouldn't have happened."

"Electro," Spider-Man said.

"No," Walker said, "He is still in his cell, securely contained. We just checked."

"Run a search for Lorentz in the entire prison now," Henderson said.

"On it," Walker said.

"Did you activate the force field upon raising the alarm?" Spider-Man asked, pacing back and forth behind them.

"The force field is always activated," Walker said, "When the alarm was raised, it automatically doubled in strength. Since the prison break last year, we have adopted special measures. An extra layer of security."

"So nobody can escape now?"

"No one. To enter, you need special allowances."

Yuri nodded.

"I had to get allowance to come in," she told Spider-Man.

"Anyone got out when we came in?" Spider-Man asked Walker.

"No one,' Walker said, "You need permission to get out too."

"Anyone who slipped out?"

"No."

"Right," Spider-Man said, and stopped dead in his track. He then turned to Yuri. "That means the killer is still in here somewhere."

* * *

Three hours and forty-five minutes earlier…

Otto had never talked for this long in the past six months.

He was tired.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, hanging down his head.

He had had a difficult yet crazy last one hour.

He couldn't understand why this person had come to him. When at first he had accepted the fact that he wasn't the doctor, Otto guessed he had either come to kill him or free him.

When there was no sign of violence, he considered the latter fact. Maybe someone had come to free him after all. But he knew it was useless. He was not the man he used to be. Not physically. Maybe not mentally too.

Otto heard a knock at the door. He looked up and saw the man open the door. Maybe he hadn't come to free him after all. But that hardly made any difference.

Then he saw the prison officer come in. Jason Marion, as he had come to know of him in the last three weeks.

Otto was hardly aware of what was happening in the room, but when he heard some noise, he looked up. What he saw was unexpected.

The officer was down on the floor, either unconscious or dead.

Then the false doctor walked towards him.

"Have you really come to free me?" Otto asked.

"Yes," the man said and placed his hand on top of Otto's heart, "But not the way you are thinking."

Otto felt a sudden heat where the man had placed his hand on him, and when he looked at his chest, he smelled burning flesh and felt an unbearable pain. The skin started to hiss as it burned.

The man put his other hand on Otto's mouth, muffling his screams.

Then the false doctor removed his hand from his chest, while still covering his mouth.

Otto's whole body was on fire. His heart beat unreasonably fast and it felt like it would tear out of his chest. He was burning alive.

And then it happened.

The man's face began changing shape and texture.

Otto watched in pain as the face changed to another face. A face he recognized all to well.

"For what you did to hundreds of people last year," the face said in the familiar voice, "For Lizzy."

It happened all too fast.

The last thing Otto felt was a pain in his neck and in the back of his head as it was forced sideways.

* * *

Now…

Time was running out. He would have to act fast.

This part of the prison was very quiet. It was lighted all around him. He opened the door to the room.

It was a big room.

Only that it only had a bed, a toilet seat and a wash basin. The bed was at the far right corner. The toilet seat was beside it. The wash basin was attached to the wall adjacent to the bed. The rest of the room was empty.

Everything was painted white. The walls, the floor and the ceiling were all white.

Maybe because of the color, the room felt wider. Bigger.

The man lying on the bed sat up and looked at him.

"What have I done this time?" Martin Li asked.

"This time? Absolutely nothing."

Martin Li nodded and laid back on his bed.

"You have in your hand, what, a dozen deaths. And you are so relaxed?"

Li looked at him and smiled.

"Why, does it bother you?" he asked.

"In a manner, it does. Way too much."

"Well, I don't care."

"Amazing," he said and sat down on Li's bed. Li wasn't a threat to him in this room. As a matter of fact, Li couldn't use his powers in the entire wing. It had been designed to dampen his powers. "Don't you people, like, receive counselling for your crimes?"

Li sat up again.

"Why do _you_ ask?" he said.

"Oh, I was sent to inspect their work. The counselors'."

"I fried my own parents. Nothing hurts as bad as that."

He nodded.

"Here," he told Li, "Take this. I have a message for you. Give me your hand." He took Li's hand and placed a bright red rose.

Martin Li looked at it.

"What on earth does this mean?" he said.

"Well, what should I say? A call from hell?" Li looked at him, puzzled. "Well, isn't that the place you should go to?"

Li looked up at him as he took off his helmet and smiled. He clasped Li's shoulder so he couldn't move and put the gun on his chin.

"You!" Li gasped.

"If you have to know," he said, "She didn't survive. May Parker couldn't make it. She fell ill. And died. Thanks to you."

This was his favorite part. His fingers had been itching for this moment.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

 _Aunt May had been ill since the last three days._

 _She should have been at home, at bed rest._

 _She wasn't._

 _Peter found her at the FEAST kitchen that morning, stooping over and fiddling with the microwave._

 _Peter walked up to where she stood and stopped behind her._

" _What's this?" he said, "Two days ago I had to rush you to the hospital. You couldn't even get to a sitting position, and now what are you doing here straining yourself?"_

 _Aunt May turned to him and smiled._

" _Are you headed to work, Peter?" she said._

" _What? What kind of an answer is that, Aunt May? I asked what are you doing here?"_

" _I'm doing my work," Aunt May said with a wave of her hand and turned back to the microwave._

" _You should be resting. At home. I had to go to work, but I decided to drop you a visit. And I didn't find you home. I should be at the lab right now, you know? Working on the neural interface we came up with." Peter sighed._

 _She shook her head._

" _Not yet. You've got to wait another twenty minutes, Peter."_

 _Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing._

 _He bent down to look at what was inside the microwave._

 _There was a big brown cake rotating inside the machine._

 _Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he looked up, Aunt May hugged him tight._

" _It's your birthday, silly! Happy Birthday!"_

 _Really? What day was it? And then he remembered. He was turning twenty-three today._

 _Aunt May let go of him and kissed him on the forehead._

" _People like you are always in a lost world," she mused, and stopped the timer. Then, putting on her gloves, she opened the door and brought out the cake._

" _You're going to work?" she asked again._

" _Peter," Martin Li walked in before Peter could say anything._

" _Martin."_

" _Happy Birthday, Peter," Martin said, shaking his hand._

" _Thanks, Martin. You knew too?"_

" _Oh yes, but don't take it otherwise, Peter. I just can't get your Aunt to go home. Any effort is entirely useless. She's way more stubborn than she looks."_

 _Peter looked at Aunt May. She was smiling to herself._

" _What's that smile for?" he asked._

" _You refused the offer from OsCorp too, right?" she asked, staring him in the eye._

" _Yeah, I did."_

" _Well, I shouldn't be surprised. You are as stubborn as me."_

 _"Wait," Martin said, crossing his arms, "You rejected an offer from Norman Osborn?" Peter nodded. "Why so?"_

" _I just believe working for a start-up company will help me learn more."_

" _Did Norman Osborn himself come to talk to you?"_

" _Yeah, he did," Peter said. He found the question strange._

 _Martin looked impressed. He even looked happy._

 _"Which firm do you work for, Peter?"_

 _"Octavius Industries. It's a very new business."_

 _Martin nodded._

" _Well May," he said, turning to Aunt May, "I wouldn't worry about your nephew, you know? Otto Octavius is a…different man. I actually knew him once. I'm sure he will make sure Peter is alright."_

 _Aunt May looked at Peter._

 _Peter shrugged._

And now he was looking at the headless figure before him and couldn't believe it was the same man who had assured Aunt May about his decision to work with Otto Octavius.

"Damn him."

* * *

Yuri turned to Spider-Man who was hunched over the corpse of Martin Li.

"Damn who?" she asked him.

Spider-Man gasped and stood up.

He shook his head.

"Nothing," he muttered.

But Yuri knew he was lying. He was far from okay. The quaver in his voice said that. His hands were trembling. She wished she knew what was happening with him. She wanted so much to help him. But damn it, she had to focus on the job ahead.

She knew that all this was somehow personally related to him.

She touched him in the shoulder. He didn't respond. So she squeezed him in the shoulder, and when he turned back towards her, she pulled him outside the cell.

"What's wrong?" she tried saying in the gentlest voice possible.

Spider-Man shook his head.

"No," Yuri insisted, "You are _not_ _telling_ me something. Say it. You _have_ to say it."

Spider-Man remained quiet. He was trembling.

Whether it was grief or anger or both, she couldn't say.

"Don't _you_ trust me?" Yuri asked with as much kindness as she could gather. Damn, she had never been _so_ soft-spoken before.

Henderson came in. He looked troubled.

Yuri let go of Spider-Man.

"They found Lorentz," Henderson said.

"Where?" Yuri asked.

"In the North-East wing, dumped in an empty cell."

" _Dumped_?"

Henderson nodded. He scratched the back of his head.

"He's knocked out. And he's not the only one. There's one more."

"Who's?"

"The officer in charge of this wing."

"I thought so," Spider-Man said, "I knew it all along. It _has to_ be Dmitri Smerdyakov."

"The _Chameleon_?" Henderson asked.

"Yes, he's been impersonating them. And I wouldn't be surprised if you found the real psychiatrist dead in his house right now. Speak to the control room and ask them to see if he is still in his cell."

Henderson brought touched his ear and spoke.

"Surveillance Room. This is Derek Henderson."

"Surveillance Room, this is Ethan Eckhart," Henderson's radio crackled.

"Officer Eckhart," Henderson said, "I need you to check the cell of Dmitri Smerdyakov. The Chameleon. Is he still in there?"

"Yes I'm doing that Sir. Just give me a second, please."

They waited a few seconds for the answer. It was absolutely quiet from the other side.

"Officer Eckhart?" Henderson called.

The radio crackled back to life.

"This is not possible, Warden. He…He's not here."

Henderson gasped.

"I knew it," Spider-Man muttered.

"I need you to look at the other corridors of D-Wing, Officer," Henderson said. He turned to Yuri and Spider-Man. "Please come with me."

"Copy that," Officer Eckhart said and the crackling of the radio went silent again.

"I _should have_ thought of this before, Yuri," Spider-Man said as they followed Henderson to wherever he was taking them, "Such impractical of me."

"Why are you taking it so hard on yourself?" Yuri asked him.

Spider-Man shook his head.

"I've been proven wrong once again, Yuri. Taskmaster was right. The storm just swept everything away from me before I even knew it."

Yuri looked at him.

This _was_ personal to him.

And she didn't know why, but she felt the urge to know more.

"Not everything," she said, looking at him with such affection she never knew she was capable of. She felt sorry for him. Right at this moment she realized she had forgotten he was a person too. A man behind the mask. Gosh, he didn't even sound very old. He had a girlfriend and he couldn't have been more than thirty, even. All this time, she had taken for granted what he had done for everyone. It was just like she had wanted something done, and he did it. Very few times did it occur to her what he had to go through to do his work. A work without any reward. Even she knew she couldn't be as selfless as he was. It suddenly made her feel that this man deserved more. He deserved much more respect than all the controversies the mass had for him regardless of what he did for them.

"Thanks, Yuri," Spider-Man said, looking ahead.

The lights around them began to blink red. The sirens began to wail.

"What's that?" Spider-Man asked Henderson.

Henderson looked at his watch.

"That's the force-field being deactivated during a time of crisis," Henderson said, looking worried. He spoke into his radio. "Control Room, this is Derek Henderson," he said into his radio.

"Control room, this is Officer Eliot," his radio crackled to life.

"Who the hell authorized deactivating the force-fields?" Henderson asked.

There was a pause, then the man spoke.

"It was you, Sir. Hadn't you just sent orders to deactivate them?"

Henderson's eyes went wide.

"When did I…No. _No_! Activate the fields again, Officer! Seal the exits. That wasn't me who sent the orders. Seal the exits before anyone escapes. You hear me? Do it _now_!"

"But Sir…He's already out."

* * *

Henderson had acted quickly. He had ordered every man outside to stop the imposter.

"I'm going out too," Spider-Man said.

Henderson looked confused. He seemed to be hesitating.

"Don't worry, I'm the real deal, Henderson," Spider-Man said, "Plus, if I'm out, we have better chances of catching him." He turned to Yuri. "I know his moves. I know the way he'll blend in and change face every second." He turned back to Henderson. "He'll keep on changing faces, that's why your men are unable to catch him. They don't even know who they are looking for."

Yuri nodded.

"Let him out," she said.

Henderson, who was looking utterly helpless now, sighed.

"Alright," he said and spoke into his radio.

Once again, the red lights flashed and the sirens wailed.

Spider-Man was guided to the nearest exit by Henderson, and Yuri followed.

He turned back to Yuri.

"You be careful," he told her.

She nodded.

"You too."

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, a dark Bell 429 Global Ranger fired its engine. Not Yuri's chopper.

From above the tower, Spider-Man watched the men below on the deck. Confused men, in a dilemma whether to look among them or to go after the chopper. He couldn't find anyone suspicious from up there.

He counted twenty of them.

He rang up Yuri.

" _Spider-Man,"_ she received the call.

"Yuri, do me a favour and ask Henderson how many of his men are out here on the deck?"

" _It's highly unlikely he'll know how many. Anyone could be. But I'll ask. I'm headed to the surveillance room, that's where he is right now. I'll call you back in a minute."_

The Bell 429 was now ascending into the air. There were two men inside it. The pilot and a passenger, looking down at the crowd below with binoculars.

There was an incoming call.

"Yuri, could he tell anything?" Spider-Man asked.

 _"Spider-Man," Yuri huffed, "It was a trick. We've been deceived."_

" _Deceived_?"

 _"The Chameleon' is in his cell."_

" _What_?"

 _"Yeah, the real Eckhart's here on his chair right now, just waking up. He was knocked out, just like Lorentz and the other officer. The one who said Chameleon wasn't in his cell was someone else."_

Spider-Man couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Could you count how many of Henderson's men are there on the deck?"

 _"Yes, twenty."_

 _Damn. That meant the killer was not there on the deck. He was in the chopper._

" _Spider-Man, what's really surprising is that Chameleon never escaped prison last year when Otto Octavius had freed them. The staff was shocked him still in his cell. In fact, he was the only prisoner who stayed in."_

"Well, that's-"

Spider-Man was about to let go of the tower when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. He looked down at his leg to find his costume drenched in red and rapid blood flowing out.

He jerked when he felt a similar sensation in his right collar bone.

* * *

The night starry sky rose above him.

Cold air rushed past him as he descended.

He was cold.

After a few seconds, there was a sound like water splashing and he felt like he had hit concrete.

Coldness swept in.

When he inhaled, his nostrils burned. His chest felt heavy.

It was too late when he realized he was drowning.

He swayed his hands. Fought for control. For balance.

He went numb.

The light above from Ryker's Island seemed hazy. The view wasn't very clear.

Darkness surrounded his vision.

The light seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.

" _He's an incredible guy. Uncle Ben would have liked him."_ He heard his own voice say.

" _I just hope you don't regret it later."_ Aunt May.

" _Well May, I wouldn't worry about your nephew, you know? Otto Octavius is a…different man. I actually knew him once. He will make sure Peter is alright."_ Martin Li.

All these people. They were from some other world. They were unreal. Non-existent.

It was like a dream that kept you away from the bitter truth.

A lure.

The distant light above him turned into a dot and disappeared.

And darkness crept in.

* * *

 **I promise I will be making some changes in the sentence construction here.**

 **Please don't forget to leave back your reviews.**

 **Regards...**


	3. Deceived

The tall towers glinted under the bright sun-lit sky. The whole of New York was bathed under the yellow morning light.

The entire scene could have called for a praise for its magnificence, but a different line of thought raced across the mind of Norman Osborn right now.

He lasted a second before the glass wall overlooking the city, and then he would have gone down to his office, if not for the knock at his door.

He took a sip of water from his glass (the taste of wine or whiskey no longer entertained him) and called in whoever it was.

The door opened outward and revealed a haggard looking Dr. David Patrick Lowell in his long white lab coat.

"Dr. Lowell," Norman said, putting down his glass of water, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Mr. Osborn," the man was practically leaping, "You need to come down. Now. We might have some improvements. Harry's healing."

All thought left Norman as he rushed behind his employee downstairs.

The secret door to the lab was open.

Inside the lab, Norman found a few of his other employees, all gathered around the tank that presently contained a dying Harry Osborn.

However, the first thing that caught his eye wasn't Harry. It was the message displayed on the glass wall of the tank by the black, jelly-like substance attached to him.

It read:

 _ **I need more help. Call Peter Parker.**_

Norman stared at the tank, and moved around to look at his son.

He was still the same. Unconscious. His chest rose up and down as he was breathing for his life.

"He wrote that?" Norman asked out loud.

Dr. Lowell turned to him.

"It wasn't here until ten minutes ago," he said and turned back to look at the tank. He walked to a tablet-sized panel standing next to the tank. "The monitors show the symbiote almost healed thirty-two percent of his illness."

Norman walked over to where Dr. Lowell stood and looked at the panel.

"Are you sure this thing's working alright?" he asked, unable to believe what he was looking at.

Lowell laughed nervously.

"That's the first thing we checked," he said, tapping the panel, "It's completely alright. Harry's regained seventy-percent capacity of his normal brain functions. Have a look."

Norman looked at the panel.

"I can't…this is... _incredible_!" he exclaimed, "I can't believe it!"

Lowell smiled.

"Only yesterday he was so much worse!" Norman said, "This…this is a great work you've all done."

Lowell sighed and smiled.

"Let's not get carried away too much now, Mr. Osborn, he still has a lot to recover."

"But its' certain that he will, right?"

"Most probably. But that's one thing I don't get. Why does he need Peter Parker? And who is he?"

Norman Osborn nodded.

"We'll get to him," he said, already formulating a plan to talk to Peter, "I'll tell you."

* * *

MJ was frantic. Half of the day had already passed and Peter still wasn't back. He wasn't even answering her calls.

She went over to the window and watched the afternoon landscape. The New York skyline stretched far ahead of her, and there was no Peter yet.

She looked at her watch.

Half past ten.

She grew more and more anxious every passing second.

She sat at the window frame and fished out her cellphone.

She dialed Miles' number.

The line rang three times before he answered.

" _Hey MJ!"_

"Miles! Thank God. Is Peter with you?"

" _Peter? No."_

"Oh God," MJ sighed.

" _What…what's wrong MJ? Isn't he home?"_

"No. He left for RAFT yesterday evening with the NYPD Captain."

" _RAFT? Why?"_

MJ looked at her watch.

"Somebody killed Otto Octavius. And you know how Peter is with that."

" _Yeah…so he must be there. Isn't he? Did you try ringing him up?"_

"He isn't answering my calls, Miles. What should I do?"

" _Do you want me to go and have a look at the NYPD?"_

"Yeah, please. I'll come too."

" _No you can't MJ. We can't let Captain Watanabe know about you. It'll risk Peter's secret."_

"Well she already knows that I'm his girlfriend."

" _She only knows you as MJ. Not as Mary Jane Watson. There could be a lot of MJs. Trust me. I'm headed off already."_

MJ sighed again.

"Okay Miles, thanks. Keep me updated."

" _Sure,"_ he said and hung up.

MJ got off the window frame and left it open in the hope that Peter would be back soon.

She tied her hair into a bun and headed to the door.

When she opened it, Norman Osborn stood before her in a dark suit.

She took a step back.

MJ noticed the disappointment in his face when he saw her. Clearly, they weren't the best of friends anymore, not after the events that led to Norman losing the mayorship.

"Mr. Osborn," she kept her voice neutral and stepped aside to let him in.

He strode in, his hands clenched together behind him.

"Good morning Miss Watson. Where's Peter?"

MJ was surprised at his direct approach to the subject. It was obvious that he had come for Peter and not for her.

"I don't know," she said. She decided to stick to the truth. She didn't have the time and energy to make things up, and besides, if someone like Norman could help find Peter, it was a bonus.

Norman raised his eyebrow.

"You don't know?"

"I don't. He must have left at night when I was…asleep," MJ lied this time, "He hasn't shown up till now."

"So call him up."

"He isn't answering."

MJ noticed that Norman wasn't in a mood to straighten things out between them. Which she was all too happy about. She wasn't in the mood either.

Norman looked around and without another word went out.

After a minute, MJ headed out too, locking the door behind her.

When she got out into the street, she realized she didn't have the slightest of idea where she should go.

* * *

It was the thirtieth time Yuriko Watanabe had rung him up. Despite all the facts which promised everything wrong, she wished Spider-Man had escaped the embrace of the East River.

Yuri paced the terrace of the NYPD. She was uneasy. She couldn't tell who she was so angry at. Herself, or the irresponsible people at the RAFT.

Henderson's men had reported seeing him fall into the river.

Then the search had begun.

And they still hadn't found him.

She rang him up once again, despite her subconscious yelling at her that it was of no use.

 _Damn it._

She was almost relieved for a second when she heard the familiar _thwip-thwap_ of Spider-Man's webs attaching to things. When she turned around, she saw Spider-Man's sidekick, sticking to the water tank, in the same black ski mask and the red hood. Only this time, his eyes were covered with what looked like goggles lenses.

She remembered telling Spider-Man she shouldn't see this kid again, but now she was glad he was here.

There was an awkward silence as both looked at each other and none spoke, most probably each waiting for the other to speak first. She guessed he didn't know where Spider-Man was, either.

"We haven't found him," she spoke first.

He jumped down next to her.

"Can you tell me what actually happened?" he said.

Yuri looked away.

"Spider-Man was seen falling into the East River. They haven't found him. Yet." She didn't want to give up hope entirely.

"Oh no, was he shot?" Spider-Kid asked. She didn't know what he called himself, so she decided to stick with _Spider-Kid_.

"No one knows," Yuri said, frustrated at being questioned, "Maybe he was. It's the most probable. The shooter might have been using a silencer."

"Oh no," he said, pacing around her, his hands on his hips.

"Do you know any place possible where he might have gone if he could escape?" Yuri asked.

He shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Did you talk to his girlfriend?"  
Spider-Kid stopped moving. He nodded.

"He's not with him? What'd she say?"

"He's not with her. She's worried sick."

 _Another hope down._

"Hey," he said, "Can we, you know, set up a city wide alert? You know, like inform the Mayor?"

" _What_?"

"Just an idea. You know if it's right."

Yuri shook her head.

"I don't know if he'll care enough," she said, "The Mayor already hates Spider-Man. Even though he's been quiet for all this time, he'll only be happy to learn the news. In this way, he can launch his special force troops only sooner."

" _So what do we do_?"

"I _don't know_!" Yuri yelled, "Stop _whining_ and just… _get out_ of my face!"

Spider-Kid was apparently too stunned to say anything. He froze.

Yuri was about to apologize to him for her behaviour when the door to the terrace opened and Carlie Cooper walked towards them, holding a red rose.

"Anything?" she asked Yuri.

"No."

"Well, I tested on this," Dr. Cooper raised her hand holding the rose, "This is an absolutely ordinary rose."

Yuri now realized she had other cases running parallel too. In her worry about Spider-Man, she had almost forgotten about them.

"And what about the one they found with Martin Li?" she asked.

"Likewise. Nothing."

Yuri turned to Spider-Kid.

"Look, kid," she said, "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do. There's Taskmaster to deal with. And then there's the death of Octavius and Martin Li. My superiors want to talk to me. I just don't know what to say."

"It's alright, Captain Watanabe," he said.

"Captain," Carlie Cooper said, "This reminds me. If the Chameleon's still in prison, then how did the murderer catch hold of the same mask which can change faces? If I'm not wrong, I remember being told that Chameleon's mask was destroyed in the hands of Captain Stacy. And no one yet could come up with the technology."

Yuri sighed. She shook her head.

"I don't know Cooper. I just don't know. And I really feel very sick not knowing."

* * *

The man seated in the interrogation room could not have been more than fifty year old.

He had dark hair with white strips, reaching up to his eyes. He had what would be called a Van Dyke Beard. He was stripped off his previous clothes (it was necessary to do so) and was now in an orange jump suit. He knew the fact that they were looking at him from the other side of the wall and he looked back, although his eyes didn't quite meet theirs, because he could only see himself in the one-way glass.

"You're up, DeWolff," Yuri Watanabe said.

Detective Jean DeWolff nodded and opened the door to the interrogation room. The man looked up.

"Hands on the table," DeWolff said.

The man chuckled and obeyed. His hands were cuffed. And his feet were tied. The NYPD couldn't effort any more risk.

DeWolff pulled out the chair opposite him and sat. Placing her hands on the table, she looked him straight in the eye. Then she produced a recorder from her pocket and, switching it on, placed it on the table.

The man cocked his head to one side. He was smiling.

"I can't help you, Officer," he said.

DeWolff opened the file she had been holding and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

"Tony Masters," she read out, "a.k.a. the Taskmaster. That's a very low profile you have kept."

He smiled.

"You were once a SHIELD agent," DeWolff continued, "One of the best. At the top. You have what can be referred to as _photographic reflexes_ , am I right? You can duplicate others' movements just by looking at them. You don't even need practice."

He nodded.

"And what will you do with all that information?" he asked, "I don't suppose anything is mentioned about the people I am currently working for. And I can't help you, Officer. Three people have tried me before you, and they were unsuccessful. So what exception do you think you are?"

DeWolff smiled.

"Nothing," she said, "No exception. And you're right. These papers are just formalities. Because I have a very informal way to obtaining answers. You sure you are not willing to cooperate?"

The man shrugged.

"I had said beforehand I am helpless," he said.

"I don't think you _don't_ know about what happened at the RAFT yesterday evening?"

He shrugged again.

"I'm not told everything."

"But you knew Octavius and Martin Li would be killed, didn't you?"

Tony Masters kept quiet.

"You knew, didn't you?"

He kept quiet.

"Where is Spider-Man?"

Tony Masters laughed.

"Well, well, now _he_ disappeared too? I can tell you that this wasn't part of the plan, not as far as _my_ knowledge goes."

"As far as _your_ knowledge goes, what all do you know?"

"I told you I am helpless."

Jean DeWolff nodded. She paused the recorder and stood up. Then she placed the recorder on her chair and went over to the other side of the table, where Tony Masters was seated.

"Remember," she said, "You asked for it."

"Not gonna help," he said.

"Very well," DeWolff said and pulled out her taser. Then, flicking the switch on, she hit the man with it on his back.

The man jumped on his seat upon the shock of the taser.

"Tell me," DeWolff said, "Will you tell me now?"

Tony Masters gasped. He then smiled.

"I can't tell you."

"Alright," DeWolff said and tased him again.

"Waste of time, Officer," the man gasped, his head on the table.

"I have a lot of time, Masters."

She moved her hand to his waist and tased him there.

The man jerked again, but kept quiet.

"Isn't this off the rules, Officer?"

"It's detective, Masters, not Officer. And I wouldn't worry if this was against the rules. Outside, there's no one except Captain Watanabe watching. And she definitely supports my actions and methods. So don't expect any interference from her."

"I wouldn't expect anything from her, and besides," he looked at the mirror and then at DeWolff, "I enjoyed throwing her across the room yesterday. Ask her if she still has the back pain from the impact."

DeWolff tased him again, but she didn't withdraw this time. She kept on doing it for quite a few seconds until Taskmaster passed out.

"I think that was a little too much, Detective," Yuri's voice boomed across the room.

"No problem," DeWolff spoke into her radio, "I realized he's of little help. Plus, if you read his file, he's been injected with some sort of serum which enhances his body's defence. World nowadays!"

"We still need him."

DeWolff walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. She looked at Yuri who had taken off her leather jacket now and was holding it in her hand.

"How long do you plan to keep him here?" DeWolff asked.

"I don't know. Let's see. When he wakes up, we'll try one more time, and then even after that, if he doesn't cooperate, he will be moved to Rykers."

* * *

Yuri Watanabe dialed Derek Henderson in the afternoon. He picked up immediately after the first ring.

" _Henderson."_ He sounded aghast.

"Officer Henderson, any news on Spider-Man?"

" _Not about Spider-Man, but I may have some other news."_

Yuri straightened.

"What is it?"

" _I just found eighteen of the twenty men supposed to be at the deck yesterday night, in an abandoned warehouse near Long Island. They're saying they were left like that since yesterday afternoon."_

"What? So it wasn't them we counted yesterday?"

" _Only two of them were. The other eighteen were all fake."_

Yuri was having a hard time believing that they had been deceived again.

" _Captain, I don't understand what's happening. You need to come over here right now. The Chameleon says he wants to talk to you."_

* * *

 **I sincerely thank each and everyone who have read so far.**

 **In the first few chapters, I'm just setting up the tone of the story. By now, you might have had a fair idea how this thing's going to be like. I am grateful to all those who reviewed, favorited and followed. Please continue to make my day and inspire me to carry on.**

 **To daddysaysno: Thanks! **

**To everyone else, please leave back your honest reviews. I'm looking forward to them. I need to know...how I am doing...**


	4. Roses

***This chapter had been deleted and posted again after I made some corrections. I apologize to the people who had already read it or were in the middle of it if I caused any inconvenience.**

 **I want to point out that since the entire story as a whole is plot-driven, that is, it's continued over the chapters, readers might not find a lot of depictions of Yuri and Spider-Man, which everyone loves, in the first few chapters. Of course there will be in the future chapters, and I promise to make them as enjoyable as possible, but as the plot goes, you won't find _a lot of it_ here now.**

 **And...and...also, I know the DLCs are coming out next week, but since I have already taken over the characters and set them on newer paths (This story takes place almost fourteen months after the scene which showed Norman Osborn and Harry in the healing tank), many things will not match with what will be shown in the DLC. So, in my story, the DLCs may never have happened. I'll be honest. But, I promise to bring in a few elements from them, if possible.**

 **My whole idea of writing this story was to explore the numerous aspects the game left, and also to introduce the less common villains.**

* * *

Dmitri Smerdyakov nervously looked around at the people in the room. He sat on a chair, securely tied to it, and before him sat Captain Yuri Watanabe and Detective Jean DeWolff. Superintendent Derek Henderson stood at the door.

His stare locked onto DeWolff.

"Who is this woman?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," Yuri said.

He turned to Henderson.

"I need to know," he told him, "Any of these could be fraud, here to kill me."

"We're not frauds," DeWolff said.

"Why would someone want to kill you?" Yuri asked.

"Because they have already killed two of the inmates."

"But why _specifically_ you?"

"Because I know them and they know me and I failed them thanks to you cops. And that son of a bitch Stacy."

" _Failed_ them?" Henderson said.

"Yes," Smerdyakov replied, "I was working for them before you put me in here. And the new commander doesn't tolerate men who fail the group." He gulped. "He kills them. Or he has them killed. Like he will kill me."

"But how do you know it's the same people?" Yuri asked.

"Have you found roses with Octavius and Martin Li?"

"Yes we did," Yuri said.

"Because it's them. That's how I came to know." He turned to Henderson. "It's the same people. And I wouldn't be surprised if they were still here."

* * *

MJ had a feeling she was being followed. She wasn't sure, but she felt it in her guts that she was. Since the last two hours, from her journey to the Bugle and then back home, there was this young looking guy constantly after her. Wherever she went, he followed. When she was on the street again, she was hungry and had stopped before a food stall to get something to eat. The man stopped around fifty yards from her, and began fiddling with his phone. That was when she had realized. When she moved again, after biting down a hot dog, he too resumed walking. It was broad daylight and she dared to take a turn and enter into an alley way. Damn it. She hadn't brought her stunt gun with her.

When she crossed the alley and walked into the next street, she entered into a toy store. From the window, she carefully peeped out. Yes. The guy was still there, once again fiddling with his phone. Talking to someone. Or pretending to.

She realized that as long as she was in here, she was safe. But she had to get out. It was almost two and the store was about to get closed for a lunch break.

The problem was, the exit door led you around the place and again on to the same street you were before you came in.

She should have brought her stunt gun with her. She made a mental note to never forget it ever again.

She peeped again at the guy outside. He was still there. The guy looked towards the window. She ducked. Her heart hammered against her chest.

She went away from the window, hoping he hadn't seen her and that he wouldn't come in.

She went to the far corner of the store, hiding herself among the tall shelves full of soft toys.

She did the only thing she could think of.

* * *

Yuri was amazed at how easily the Chameleon was giving away information. Either he was lying, or he was really terrified. She found this an opportunity to proceed with the case in hand.

"Who are these people Dmitri?" she asked, "Are these the same people Taskmaster works for?"

"Taskmaster? Who's Taskmaster? I don't know no Taskmaster."

"You don't know?" Yuri said, "Tony Masters?"

Smerdyakov shook his head.

"I don't know no Taskmaster nor Tony Masters," he said, "Maybe he is a new recruit. The Rose often hires new people, most of the time for replacement of the junks they killed."

" _The Rose_?" DeWolff said, "Is that what they call themselves?"

Smerdyakov shook his head.

"I don't know what the the hell they call themselves, but those who know them call them by that name. Mostly because they leave behind roses with their victims."

"I don't remember any such case with roses," Yuri said, "It's entirely new to me."

Smerdyakov shook his head again.

"That's because they work in the shadows and operate mostly outside the city. And they are damn good with their work, I tell you. They do it pretty neat. If they kill, you won't know that the victim was killed. If they steal, well, you can hardly find any traces as of who did it, or when it was done. I'm surprised that they have openly killed now, here, for the first time maybe, letting people know that there was even a murder committed."

"And you believe they want to kill you now?" Yuri asked.

"It's a feeling. Like a feeling you have when you know you are gonna fail a test. Outside, of course I'm not safe. I thought that prison was the safest place for my sorry butt, but now even that's uncertain."

"And so you never left prison when there was a breakout last year," DeWolff suggested.

"That's the reason," he said, "But why does everybody be like was it a ridiculous thing I did?"

"It was," Henderson said, "No one expected that from you. We found it strange, but an insignificant matter to ponder about."

"Mr. Smerdyakov," DeWolff said, "If you have to know, eighteen officers here were abducted yesterday and they were faked. By imposters. Imposters who looked exactly like the real ones. Do you have something to say about it?"

Smerdyakov nodded.

"It's them," he said.

"No doubt about it. Anything else? And how did all of them look just like the real people?"

"They must have used the mask, obviously."

"I thought that. But how did they gain access to the technology? No one could do that. Yet."

"They don't have to gain access to it,woman! They built it."

* * *

Miles was feeling completely helpless. He didn't have the slightest of clue where to look for Peter after two whole hours of swinging around the city.

He wasn't very good at it. He had just learned to do that when Peter had landed him one of his old web-shooters just a month ago.

As he swung from one street to the other, his thoughts drifted from Peter's disappearance to why he never liked to call himself "Spider-Boy" or "Spider-Kid". "Spider-Man" was taken, of course, and he felt that only "Man" sounded good with "Spider". Not "Kid" or "Boy". He hadn't even designed a proper costume for himself. It was like he would move around, with that sports track and that ski mask and the red hood. Lately he had learned that at first, Peter had used broken lenses from old goggles to cover his eyes and now Miles did the same.

His mind slipped away from his thoughts when he saw a few thugs below him cornering a lady in an alley. Just the usual type of criminals.

He leaped from the building he had stuck to, and landed just behind the thug at the back.

He turned around, a surprise playing on his features, when Miles webbed him and pulled him back.

"Hey!" one of the men shouted.

There were four other thugs before him, who all turned to him now, knives and sticks in hand.

"Aw," Miles said, "Five rats against one lady? Isn't that adorable?"

All four charged at him.

Miles pushed himself high off the ground and landed on the head of the thug nearest to him, pushing him down and knocking him at once. Then he booted the next on the face, straight at the nose, and sent him reeling back. Miles landed on the ground and crouched down to avoid a sweeping blow form the third man. Miles swept his leg at him, tripping him. Before he touched ground, Miles punched him at the side of his head and knocked him out too.

Now there was only the fourth guy left.

But he stood behind the lady, holding a knife to her throat.

"One step," he said, "And I am gonna slit her damn throat."

"Okay," Miles said, raising his hands, "Okay. No throat slitting. No throat slitting. I ain't gonna step front. I'll go back. Look. I'll go back." Miles started walking backward. He kept on walking back until he disappeared from the alley.

The man had wanted the Spider-Man impersonator to stand where he was. Not go back and disappear from sight. Now he didn't have the slightest of clue where he went. Most probably he would attack from the back. He would do that.

He turned around. There was no way to slip away from the back. It was a dead end.

But he hadn't thought about being attacked from above.

He was knocked unconscious immediately after he felt something like an iron rod falling on his head.

"Phew," Miles said, picking up the leather bag and handing it over to the woman.

It was a girl with straight blond hair now that he saw properly. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

"Uh, thanks," she said, still in shock.

"No problem," Miles said, "Just, make sure to carry a spray with you. You know," Miles gestured with his hands, drawing in the air, "Like those pepper sprays women use."

The girl nodded.

"Yeah," she said.

Something about the girl reminded Miles of MJ, and that reminded him of Peter.

"Uh, I gotta go, actually," Miles said, "I'd suggest you used a cab, Ma'am. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No," the girl managed, hurrying away from him, "I'll be alright. Thanks again."

"Yeah, just my work," Miles said, more to himself than to the girl.

Miles climbed the wall of the building next to him and stopped when he was at least thirty feet off the ground.

He was just thinking of ringing up MJ when she called.

"MJ, any news of Peter yet?" he asked after answering the call.

" _No, Miles."_

"Me neither. I tried talking to the police Captain and she didn't have a clue either. She-"

" _Miles, where are you?"_

"Me?" he looked around, "I'm near the Union Square Park. Why?"

" _I think I'm being followed. I hate to bother you, but I don't have my gun right now."_

"That's okay, where are you?"

" _I'm inside a toy shop on Fifth Avenue."_

"Alright," Miles said, already swinging in the air, "Which one?"

" _It's a new shop. I didn't look at the name. But it's single-storied and very wide. Oh yeah, and it has this peach colored teddy bear sitting above the entrance."_

"Okay," Miles said, not sure if he could find the place. Sometimes, he was really very bad at locating things. "I'm on my way. I'm roughly three miles from you. What does the guy look like?"

" _Wait, just a second. Yeah, he's still there. So he is this young looking guy, blond hair cut short, I mean, very short. And he's wearing a light blue shirt above khaki trousers._

"Okay. I'm on my way."

" _And Miles. Hurry."_

* * *

"So you are saying _they_ built you your mask?" DeWolff asked.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I said if you heard it alright."

"That means," Yuri said, "They are a pretty old organization then? Because if I'm right, it's been a while since you came to prison."

"They are a pretty old group of people. Yeah."

"Who works for them? Can you name them?"

Smerdyakov shook his head.

"They don't appear before you. They are very secretive, even from their employees."

"Then how are you assigned your jobs?"

"There is this head of the employees who receives the orders. He calls himself 'Crossfire'. The guy plans the entire work. And even he doesn't know who his employers actually are. There is only one man we have only heard of, from him, and he is said to be wearing a mask every time he meets Crossfire. A mask and a suit. Like a gentle man."

"That's pretty damn," Henderson said, "We were convinced you used to work alone, and not for such organizations."

"I had to make it look like that," Smerdyakov said, "Or they would have made it their primary goal to get rid of me and free me from my body."

"What good has it done you hiding it so long now?"

He shrugged.

"They weren't after me," he said, "At least not for a long time."

* * *

The shopkeepers were leaving. She had to get out. She waited two more minutes and then hurried out. The guy followed her again.

 _Hurry Miles, Hurry! s_ he thought, _Where is he?_

She turned back and their eyes met.

MJ increased the pace of her footsteps and the man did too. He was closing in on her.

He wasn't more than ten feet away when he suddenly disappeared from the ground.

MJ looked around her but couldn't see anyone.

But she was sure Miles had taken him away.

She sure used to follow people around for her work, but being followed and knowing it was far worse.

She searched the area for another ten minutes. She looked in and around the nearby alleys. On the streets. He was nowhere. She was hoping Miles hadn't taken her far. She had to interrogate the guy. Had to know why he had been following her.

She rang him up.

" _MJ, I'm almost there,"_ Miles said.

It took a second for MJ to filter the words.

"Where are you?" she asked.

" _I'm almost there. Yes. Yes, I see a store with a teddy bear above the entrance. Wide and single-storied._

"But haven't you already taken him away?"

" _What? No. I'm not even there yet. Wait. Just a few yards. Just a few…yup. You can come out now. I don't see anyone in a blue shirt and khaki trousers._ "

"It wasn't _you_?"

" _It wasn't_ who _?"_

"Who swung him away?"

" _What are you talking about, MJ? I don't even see anyone like you described."_

"I'm outside. Just keep on coming forward, Miles. You'll find me."

MJ was really very confused now. If it hadn't been Miles, who could it be? Could it be Peter? Hope returned to her once again and she dialed his number. But he didn't answer.

She heard something above her and looked up. A figure dressed in black and red gestured her to enter into the alley right beside her. Miles.

She looked around and walked in.

Miles jumped down.

"Where's he?" he asked.

"He was right behind me," MJ said, looking around to make sure no one saw them in the dark alley, "When I last turned around, he was less than ten feet from me, and when I turned again, it was like he had leaped very high and then he disappeared. I thought it was you."

"I just got here, now. I'm sorry."

"No," MJ said, looking here and there, "It's not that."

"Maybe he's still on the terrace," Miles said, "Why don't I go up and have a look?"

MJ nodded.

"Yeah, go ahead," she said. "I'll be right behind you."

Miles nodded and with the help of his webs, crawled and jumped onto the terrace of the building nearest to him. He scanned the entire area. Nothing. Just some broken tables and chairs.

He now turned to the direction of the toy store. The building before him was taller than the one he was on right now. He climbed onto the terrace and looked around. Again, there was no one here.

He jumped to the next terrace. There he scared away a few birds who had been having their meal.

That was when he heard a scream and commotion below him on the street. He went to the railing of the terrace and looked down. People were gathered on the street and he saw something hanging upside down from a light post.

A man.

* * *

MJ was making her way back towards the toy store when a woman screamed behind her all of a sudden, and when she turned back, there was someone hanging upside down from the light post behind her.

The figure didn't move. Just swung to and fro like a pendulum.

She recognized the man.

He was dressed in a light blue shirt and khaki trousers. His feet were wrapped in webbing. For a second, she thought this time, perhaps, Miles had caught him.

A crowd gathered around the man. She pushed through the crowd, and when she made her way through the last person, to her horror, she saw that the man's eyes were wide open but still. His face displayed shock and terror.

Something fell from his breast pocket. Something red.

MJ picked it up.

It was a rose.

* * *

 **Please leave back your reviews after reading. I've been looking forward to those. Tell me what you feel.**


	5. Taskmaster's Warning

**Thanks a lot, _Phanfan925_! And I will try to be more careful from now onward with my writing and spellings. Hope you enjoy this one!**

 ** _TheRedeemer1995_ : Thanks, and I hope you continue to read!**

 **And I thank you, dear reader, for opening this page and caring to see what this author has written. Just let me know how you feel about this story. If I am taking it in a readable direction. And don't forget to review. Just write what you feel about the story, or my writing.**

* * *

Norman Osborn didn't care if the newly installed carpet near the fish tank in his office was littered. His anger knew no bounds as he paced his office for almost an hour now, on and off the carpet.

He had been constantly making calls and his phone never left his hand. He was literally sweating despite the air conditioner of the room set to a very low temperature. The frown on his face never left.

His day, which had started with a shocking, yet gladdening news early morning took a colder turn. At first, he was bound, by no known reason, to go and talk to Peter Parker. Secondly, he could not find him in his apartment. Instead, he had found that witch of a reporter who told him that Peter never returned since he had mysteriously left yesterday night.

And now.

And now, one of his best men who he had sent to follow Mary Jane Watson to verify if she had been telling the truth had been brutally murdered in thin air. He was found hanging upside-down with a broken neck and a brand on his chest which was discovered when his shirt was removed.

Along with that came the worry if someone would find out that the man worked for Norman, and that he had been acting on his instructions. No thank you. Fortunately, he had not been carrying his OsCorp card. He was already in trouble with the hellish reporter of Mary Jane, who had played a huge role for which he wasn't Mr. Mayor anymore. No. He didn't want to get into trouble with her. At least not now.

And Harry called her his best friend…

"If he was found dangling from a light post," Norman said to Bob Wesley, his Head of Security, "Webbed, there's no doubt that it was Spider-Man. No. It _was_ Spider-Man."

"I never knew Spider-Man killed," Bob Wesley said.

"Spider-Man is a criminal. He always was, and always will be, as long as he wears that mask. And as far as killing goes, Mr. Wesley, I figured he always had that in him, on the edge. We all do. He just barely controlled it. You remember how badly he beat up that…what was his name…Kraven?"

Bob Wesley nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"We'll see to him. Spider-Man. But for now, our primary target is Peter Parker, and our best hope is that red head. Follow her no matter what, and if someone tries to stop you, shoot them."

* * *

The wind blew hard on his face. His coat was unbuttoned and he had to hold it to avoid it flying away.

He put the bouquet before Aunt May, and another before Uncle Ben, both of whom were here because of him.

Their deaths were his fault.

He sat down before their graves and tried remembering how each sounded like.

 _Peter, are you in trouble?_ _Do you need money?_ He still heard Aunt May whenever he closed his eyes. Her death had been his decision. She _did_ say that he knew what to do, but at times he wondered if he had interpreted her right. What was it that she had actually meant? He would never know.

Uncle Ben's voice. Now that was something he had to recall. He recalled the last conversation he had had with him. It was an argument. No. Not actually an argument, but mostly him being rude to his uncle.

 _If you really can do something, son, do it for a purpose. There must be a reason you can do whatever you can do. Remember that with great power comes great responsibility too._

It felt almost real when he remembered that. Like someone had just spoken those lines.

"Get up," a man's voice said from before him.

Peter looked up. They were standing right next to him.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Uncle Ben? Aunt May? It's... you? Is it really _you_?"

Aunt May smiled while Uncle Ben laughed.

"Well, what do we look like, kiddo? Holograms?" he joked.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He missed them so much.

But somehow, he knew this was too good to be true. He had burried Aunt May himself. Uncle Ben had breathed his last in his hands.

"You aren't real, are you?" Peter asked.

"No, sweety, but that doesn't matter," Aunt May consoled him, her soft motherly hands brushing tears away from his face, "We're here for you."

"I'm so sorry," Peter cried, clutching Uncle Ben's legs, "I'm so, _so_ sorry!" He wept. "If only I had known…It was only my fault…"

"Peter," Uncle Ben stroked his hair and, holding his hands, pulled him to his feet, "If you know everything, how can you learn?"

"You would still have been alive," Peter lost it. He wept uncontrollably till he chocked.

Aunt May pulled him to herself and hugged him.

Peter smelled her familiar scent, that scent of a mother which had nurtured a motherless child.

"Oh God!" He moaned and sobbed.

Uncle Ben took hold of his hand and put something there and closed his fingers into a fist and patted it. Peter felt something hard, like something made of soft metal. He knew what it was.

He looked at his hand, expecting to see his web shooter. But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

"I…I don't understand," he said through tears, "I was sure something was here. I felt it."

Uncle Ben nodded and smiled.

"It was your belief, Peter," he said, "Just your belief that you held something in there. You just had to believe something was there, and you felt it. In the same way, we see what we believe. You believe in good, you see good. You believe in bad, you see bad. You believe you are confused…well…you know what then."

Aunt May touched him on the chest.

"We'll always be here, Peter, if not anywhere else. Just believe."

Peter brought up his hand to touch hers, but instead touched his own clothing. Aunt May's hand had disappeared. He looked up.

They were gone.

* * *

Upon returning to the NYPD, Captain Yuri Watanabe hadn't been expecting to hear the sergeant report about a murder on Fifth Avenue. At first, she had decided to ignore it for a while and focus on the cases in hand first. Her head was spinning and she felt a little nauseated from the day's work and with the inexplicable situations she had been throw into.

So any other case would be dealt with later, or she would have made some officer in charge of it, but when the sergeant said that the dead man was found dangling from a light post with webs wrapped on his feet, it caught her attention.

At first she thought it could be Spider-Man, but she knew all too well that Spider-Man didn't kill. Then she thought about Spider-Kid, which seemed absurd too. However, she decided not to take chances and was about to call for him with no clue how to, when he himself showed up with a red-haired girl she recognized as a reporter from the Daily Bugle.

"Please," she told her, "I don't have time for the media right now. Some other time."

"I'm not here to ask you anything, Ma'am," the reporter said, "The victim-"

"What's this?" Yuri interrupted, pointing at the red rose showing from the breast pocket of her jacket, "Where'd you get that?"

The girl looked down at her pocket, and pulled the flower out, "This was with the victim. It fell down."

Yuri exchanged a look with Detective Jean DeWolff who was standing beside her, and took the flower from the reporter's hand.

"They have taken to the streets now?" Yuri said.

DeWolff loked at the reporter.

"Are you sure it fell from the man? Or was it there on the ground from before?" she asked.

The reporter gave her a _are-you-kidding-me_ look.

"No!" she said, "He had it with him and it dropped to the ground. I do not maintain the streets that I take in every detail of what flower or what leaf is on them, but I'm sure this belonged to him. But why do you keep asking about it? It's just a flower after all!"

"It's more than a flower, Miss," Yuri said, "It's vital that we know."

"What's so important about it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry but we can't disclose anything about it, Miss." Yuri turned to Spider-Kid, "You and I have to talk."

The girl gasped.

" _Excuse me_ ," she said, "I think I have the right to know what's happening. That man, before he died, had been stalking me for the _entire_ day. It's not that I have come here to you for just showing up my face!"

"MJ," Miles said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Just calm…down…please?" He looked at Yuri, her face changing from neutral to a frown, and then he looked at MJ, who was already frowning.

Yuri threw a glance at him and her frown changed to a confused look, and then back to neutral again. She nodded.

"Alright," she said, "We'll listen to you." She extended her hand to MJ, "Yuriko Watanabe, Captain of the NYPD."

MJ looked at her for a second.

"I know who you are, Captain," she said and took her hand, "Mary Jane Watson, Associate Editor, The Daily Bugle."

Yuri nodded again, looking her straight in the eye.

She turned to Spider-Kid.

"Any news on Spider-Man?"

Miles shook his head.

"No," he said. He saw Yuri look at MJ just for a second. MJ wasn't surprised at the mention of Spider-Man missing, and Yuri must have noticed.

Miles realized he had made a huge mistake. And he realized why Yuri had asked about Spider-Man openly before MJ. And he also realized why Yuri had introduced herself to MJ.

 _Miles, you nincompoop!_ he thought, _Screw you!_

Surely, MJ was too frustrated to have noticed.

"Where are you going?" Jean DeWolff called after Yuri as she headed for the door.

"Going to have one last talk with Tony Masters."

"Excuse me," MJ said, "What about Spider-Man? What…What happened to him?"

Yuri stopped in her track and turned to her.

"You don't know?" she asked.

MJ frowned.

"How should I? I don't know. Please tell me."

Yuri thought for a while and then said, "I'll tell you, MJ. He drowned in the East River. And we haven't found him yet."

* * *

Harry would be arriving in a few minutes.

His flight had been delayed by an hour, but that didn't matter.

He was coming home, recovered from his illness.

MJ was standing beside him, holding a bouquet of tulips and white lilies.

"I'm so excited, Pete!" she said, "I'll be seeing him, like, what? After two years! I want to hear his voice. It's been so long!"  
Peter nodded, partly confused why she was saying "I"instead of "we".

"Are those for Harry?" he asked, pointing at the flowers, despite knowing the answer.

"Yeah, of course," she said, fondly looking at them, "It's just good etiquette."

"Huh, I never remember you giving me flowers, ever," Peter teased halfheartedly.

MJ was looking straight ahead at the airport exit, not even throwing a second's glance at him.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll give you too."

"Right," Peter said, thinking it should be _him_ presenting flowers to _her_ , not the other way round.

He was looking at her, red hair open, stretching a little below her shoulder, red locks reaching the side of her face. He suddenly knew that he was in a very desperate love with her, and realized that he was partly jealous of Harry. Because MJ had bought flowers for him, and not for Peter.

How silly of himself.

MJ's face turned red and a smile danced on her lips, staring ahead. Peter looked before him, and there, at the exit, Harry Osborn walked out, white full-sleeved formal shirt, folded up to his elbow and dark trousers, pulling his luggage behind him, a coat folded on his hand.

MJ rushed to him.

Peter ran too.

Up close, Harry had changed. He had grown way more muscular than he previously was. There was not a sign that he had been ill for a long time.

Peter pulled him into an embrace.

"Hey buddy," he said.

"Peter, boy," Harry said, "It's _incredible_ to see you."

"You too. You look far better than when you left."  
Harry laughed. Then his eyes went over to MJ. Peter turned to her. She was smiling . He looked at Harry. Both were smiling at each other.

Peter was expecting Harry to say something like, "Hey MJ! You look amazing!"

But instead, Harry left his luggage where he stood and walked past Peter as if he wasn't there at all to where MJ stood, " _Hey beautiful_!" he said, and leaned down a little so that his face was level with MJ's.

To Peter's horror, MJ too brought her face closer to Harry's and then her lips met his.

Then Harry walked back, and carrying his luggage with him, walked away with MJ, neither of them looking back at him even for once.

* * *

"What day is it?" Tony Masters asked Yuri Watanabe.

"Why does it matter to you?" she asked.

"No reason. I just asked. What is it?"

"Sunday."

"Alright. What time is it?"

Yuri looked at her watch.

"A quarter to four."

"Good. That's what I wanted to know. Thank you."

Yuri leaned closer.

"I'm not finished with you, Masters."

Tony Masters chuckled.

"I figured," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Do you work for the Rose?" Yuri asked.

"Hmm…is that what they call themselves?"

"There's no reason to hide, Masters. We know it's true."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"Okay," Yuri nodded. She gestured towards the mirror behind her as if summoning it.

Within a second, the door opened and Jean DeWolff walked in.

"Do your thing," Yuri told her.

DeWolff produced her taser gun and held it next to Tony Masters' neck.

"Are you willing to comply?" she asked.

"No," Tony Masters said.

"Good. I was hoping for that."

Tony Masters yelled as the tip of her gun made contact with his neck, and setting him off on a jerking motion.

He huffed as she withdrew it. He shook his head at Yuri.

"Not gonna happen," he told her.

"Again," Yuri said, looking at him.

DeWolff tased him again. She continued for the next two minutes. Then she pulled back and Tony Masters trembled.

" _Why don't you just speak up_?" Yuri screamed and punched him on the face.

He smiled a bloody smile and spit out blood.

"My mouth is sealed, Captain. It's much like I don't remember anything. You see, I have quite a memory problem. I have to remember so many moves that my mind tends to forget the other details. No matter how important they are."

Yuri Watanabe put on her jacket that had been resting at the back of her chair.

"We'll move you to the RAFT," she said, "You are worthless here."

"Move me wherever you want, Captain," Tony Masters said, his eyes dead serious this time, "But you'll regret whatever you do. Be guaranteed. Death will be in your hands eventually. Soon."

"Thanks," Yuri said, "But I will take my chances."

* * *

They were seated on a bench, surrounded by greenery. Peter couldn't recognize the place, but it looked amazing with the setting sun.

Gwen was holding his hand.

He was about to pull it away, but then with the comfort he had, his hand in hers, he decided to let it be. If MJ could kiss Harry, why couldn't he let Gwen hold his hand?

"I'm sorry Gwen," he said, "I couldn't save you."

Gwen looked at him. There was sadness in those eyes.

"I don't blame you, Peter," she said, "There was nothing you could have done."

"But still…"

They remained quiet for sometime.

"How does it feel?" Peter asked, as a few children ran past them, "To be back?"

"Back?" Gwen said, "I'll never be back, Peter. I belong elsewhere now."

"You're never coming back?" Peter said, a tightness forming in his throat, tears welling up in his eyes, "I need you."

Gwen smiled. A sad smile.

"You couldn't love me, Peter. You were always in love with MJ."

"I know," Peter said, his voice breaking down, "I'm sorry."

"Do you have to be sorry that you love someone, Peter?"

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry that I did this to you."

"Again, I don't blame you, Peter."

Peter broke down, and Gwen pulled his head to her shoulder. She rubbed his hand, and that saddened Peter even more.

"Please, Gwen, please, just come back. I need you."

"I can't," Gwen said, "I can't."

"I _did_ love you, Gwen, but-"

"Only as a friend," Gwen completed his sentence, "I know. That's alright, Peter. That's alright." Peter sobbed. "That's completely alright."

"I'm sorry I didn't visit your grave all this time, Gwen, I felt like I had too many deaths on my shoulder. I just couldn't bear it."

"You needn't be sorry for everything, Peter. Everything's completely alright."

The sky turned dark now, stars lighting it up.

"So how is it with MJ?" Gwen asked, "How is she?"

"She betrayed me, Gwen. She's with Harry now."

"That's…really bad. How could she have done that to you?"

"I…I don't know."

"Don't worry Peter. There are many good women ahead."

"Isn't that what they tell everyone?"  
Gwen laughed.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is."

She let go of Peter and he sat straight, pulling his head away from her shoulder.

"I've got to go now," she said, standing up.

"Please don't go," Peter begged.

Gwen leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Goodbye, Nerd Boy."

"No," Peter said and looked up.

He was too late. Again.

She was gone.

* * *

Three days later…

He was lying on his bed, open eyed, when they appeared before him.

The man looked a lot like him. An older version of himself. The woman had reddish brown hair and was fairer than the man. She had a more circular face.

Peter couldn't believe his eyes. He always wanted to talk to them, and here they were, just before him. The woman smiled at him, and the man ruffled his hair. They sat down beside him on the bed. To his right. Peter sat up.

The woman touched his cheek. He hadn't felt this warmth in a long time.

It was almost as if it had never happened.

"You've grown into such a good man," she said, "My beautiful boy."

"Mom," Peter's voice was hardly audible, "Dad…"

The woman nodded.

"Will you be here for long?" Peter asked, "Or, are you going soon too, like the others?"

"This is a dream ,young man," the man said, "You've been asleep for quite a while now. It's time to wake up."

"Sleep time's over kiddo," Peter heard a voice to his left and turned to see Uncle Ben, "Get up."

At first Peter couldn't make head or tail about what these people were saying. Then sense kicked into him. It was all a dream. A long dream. A very long dream.

He already felt them fading.

"Where's Aunt May?" Peter asked.

"Right here," a voice said and she walked into his vision.

His surrounding had disappeared and everything turned blinding white.

"Tell me I'm doing the right thing," he told them.

"We're proud of you," his dad said, "We'll always be."

His mom put a hand on his forehead, and gently pushed him back to sleeping position. Aunt May caressed his face and gently closed his eyes.

"It's time to wake up," his mom whispered.

Peter woke up.

Something warm, either sunlight, or hot air greeted him. He couldn't see. He was blinded. He felt a wet cloth on his forehead. He stirred, and pulled at his hand because he felt something cold strapped to his wrists. He couldn't bring them to his face. He pulled again. It was all the same. It was then that he realized his hands were chained to whatever he was lying on. He tried his legs, and they too couldn't move a lot. He heard the sound of metallic chains.

He tried to sit up. His whole body felt very heavy. Feverish. His muscles ached.

He heard someone move and then push him back to the pillow. The hands were soft and warm. They removed the cloth from his forehead, and carefully undid the piece of cloth which had been used to blind him.

It took some effort to open his eyes, because they felt very sticky.

When he could finally open them, he had to shut them tight again, because the light blinded him.

He tried again after a minute.

It was easier now.

A figure sat by him. A woman. It wasn't clear who she was, but she bent down and kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft, much like MJ's. It was a brief kiss. She pulled back.

She slowly materialized as his eyes adjusted to the light, blond hair reaching up to her collar bones. Blue eyes. Big, blue, beautiful eyes. That's what he always remembered. Those eyes.

Peter sat up.

But this wasn't possible. She had been dead for quite a while now. Six years. She had died in that explosion.

And then he saw the deep scar on the left side of her face, near her ear. A cut above her right eyebrow. A small dark patch of skin showing near her collar bone. She looked much older now, maybe an adult, like in her mid-thirties. She had been of his age when she died.

But this couldn't be. How could it?

He was sure he wasn't dreaming anymore. The pain in his shoulder and shin confirmed that.

He found it hard to obtain his voice.

"Gwen!" he managed to say.

* * *

"Mr. Osborn," Norman's eighty year old butler said entering the room, carrying a parcel wrapped in newspaper, "This came for you. It was lying on the roof of your car."

Norman Osborn stood from his chair at one go.

"Open it," he said, "Keep it away from me."

The butler looked a little confused.

"Open it at the door," Norman said, "And then tell me what it is."

The old man, confused, took the parcel to the door and tore out the newspaper covering, which revealed a brown box with a sliding lid.

"Well," Norman said growing impatient, "Pull it open."  
The butler pulled out the lid and stared at what was inside the box, amazement and disbelief running on his features.

"What is it?" Norman asked.

Holding the box in one hand, the butler pulled out what looked like a bunch of pale yellow roses from inside the box.

"What the hell is that?" Norman muttered, "Is there anything beside a bunch of flowers?"

The butler shook his head.

"No," he said.

"Well, take it away from here."

"Right, Sir."

The butler left, closing the door behind him.

Norman Osborn turned to his window, agitated.

"Waste of time," he muttered.

He needed to find Peter fast.

* * *

 _ **Watch your mouth, Miles Morales!**_

 **He is on the younger side, and he made mistakes like Peter may have made too when he was fifteen. That part was the one I enjoyed the most while writing this chapter. Did you understand what mistake he made?**

 **Okay...Enough of setting up the story and tone and all. From the next chapter onward, I'll focus more on the story events and the developments and the progress and the characters and...Let's see...I will try to be more factual from the next chapter onward...**

 **So, how was this? Let me know!**

 **Until next time!**


	6. Masses

**Thank you everyone who have reviewed, followed and added this story in your favorite list. I am pretty grateful to all of you. And thank _YOU_ , dear reader, for being patient of my mistakes and reading all along. **

**To Phanfan925: Thanks. And you like MJ better than Gwen? Nice! When someone says Spider-Man's girlfriend, the first name that comes to my mind is Mary Jane too. And about what you said about Gwen, I would request you to read on!**

 **To K2-Black-Panther: Thanks a lot!**

 **To CarVie16: Thanks! And no. That wasn't optical camouflage. It was just Miles swinging around the building and attacking from top. In the story, Miles hasn't discovered that ability yet. He will, in a later chapter. And yeah. I also enjoy a lot, writing about Yuri.**

* * *

Yuri fully lowered the window glass to let the fresh air in. She needed it. There were things going on she was unable to grasp. She looked at the buildings and the alleys and the trees rush past her as the officer beside her raced the car into 42nd Street, sirens all blaring and clearing the way.

Ten minutes ago they had received notification of an ongoing attack at the theatre. A group of around five dozen robbers had taken over the place. That was a huge number; she couldn't remember any such incident happen before in New York lately.

When she arrived at the spot, police cars were already lined up on the street. Jean DeWolff had already arrived. That was what Yuri appreciated about her. She was new, but she was right on time. She was ruthless, and she cared very less of herself. Somethings about her reminded Yuri of herself in her own youth.

Outside, an NYPD Bell-429 Global Ranger hovered around the building.

"We've covered the perimeter," DeWolff said, turning to her. "Surrounded the entire place."

"Good," Yuri said, "Block the road."

"Yes, Ma'am. Snipers," DeWolff said, motioning her chin behind Yuri.

Yuri didn't turn back. She nodded. "Alright."

"And…the kid," DeWolff said, which sounded like an unsure muttering to herself.

"You've brought the _kid_ here?"

"No, Ma'am, he showed up on his own."

"Where's he?"

"On the terrace."

Yuri felt a surge of uncertainty. But she said nothing. She was too tired to say anything now. After all these ended, she would have to do something about it, though. She couldn't handle more than one masked vigilante helping the police force.

"Any idea how many people are inside?"

DeWolff shrugged. "Give or take, five hundred?"

"Right," Yuri said, producing a speaker mic from inside the car.

She switched it on.

"This is the police," she spoke into the mic, "We have the place surrounded. You are to leave the hostages and walk out, weapons down and hands above your head. If you do not comply, we will shoot. I give you thirty seconds. And it starts now."

Holding the microphone, Yuri took her place behind the open door of the car, her Glock-22 drawn from her holster.

"Twenty seconds," she said again, into the microphone.

"I don't think they will listen, Captain," a sergeant said.

Keeping the speaker back into the car, Yuri said, "When do they ever listen?"

"SWAT team," she spoke into her radio, "We need to make a move. Alright. On my count. Ten…" Yuri took position, her gun before her, ready to shoot. "Nine…" There was no movement. "Eight…Seven…Six…"

There was a gunshot and the screaming of people from inside the bank.

"That's right," Yuri spoke into her microphone, "We have to go in." Yuri walked out of her place and cautiously proceeded towards the entrance, gun drawn. Ten officers followed her.

Just then the door opened and all hell broke loose.

People-hundreds of them- erupted out of the building, all rushing out like bees swarming out of their hives. They were all over the place.

"They'll get away," Yuri called, "Keep eyes. Snipers."

The force of the people knocked Yuri out of balance, and she almost fell, had she not been caught by DeWolff who had been behind her at the time.

It was another minute before the rush of people ended.

The street was clear again.

"Are they all out?" somebody asked.

"Let's find out," Yuri said and went into the building.

The entire place was in a mess. Broken tables and chairs littered the foyer. Somewhere somebody screamed. A woman. Yuri crept across the hallway, the rest of the officers behind her. They heard footsteps, and a woman cried and rushed out of the door before them and towards her.

"They're there," she cried, pulling at Yuri's jacket, shaking her. "They're there."

"It's okay," Yuri said to the woman, "It's okay, Ma'am. You just get out of the building." She turned to an officer. "Officer Hardy will assist you out. Officer Hardy?"

"Yes Captain," the officer said, "Come along, Ma'am. I'll get you out of here."

Yuri turned back to the huge double door before her. There was a stairway and an elevator beside it. She gestured at the SWAT team to climb up.

The SWAT team rushed up, and Yuri, DeWolff and the rest of the police officers proceeded towards the door.

Yuri slowly turned the handle and it rotated.

"It isn't locked from the inside," she said.

She slowly pushed open the door and hid herself against the wall beside it. The others did the same.

When there was no sound of any movement from the inside, she peered in. She couldn't see anyone from there.

They anyway knew the NYPD was there, so she drew her hand into the room, and pointing upwards, fired her gun. A single shot. When she heard nothing else except the echo of the gunfire, she shot again. She peered in one more time. No. There was absolutely no movement.

Yuri motioned at her fellow officers to follow her into hall.

It was completely empty. All the chairs had been removed from their places and at the centre…at the centre she saw something. The hall was a gigantic one and the centre was at least fifty yards from where she was. So it couldn't have fallen into her eyes any sooner, because they were all dressed in black, lying on the floor, and the darkness helped camouflage them.

Yuri and the others rushed towards them, and when they neared, they saw what had actually happened.

These were the robbers. There was absolutely no doubt about it. They had their guns all spread across the floor near them. There were approximately fifty of them.

Yuri bent down and placed the tip of her fingers on one of the men's neck. She could not feel the pulse. She knew anyway. That was a silly thing she did. The man had been shot twice on the chest, and his gear was all bloody. So were the others'.

"What in the hell." DeWolff muttered.

The men were all lying dead on the floor next to each other; not in a line, but in an obscure way. Some were there side by side, while others were lying with one's feet next to the other's head.

"Captain!" someone shouted from behind them. It was a SWAT officer, standing at the edge of the gallery. "You need to look at this."

Yuri hurried over to the entrance of the hall and climbed up the stairway to the gallery. She went over to where the officer was standing. When she reached the edge, she looked down. And gasped.

She understood now why the men were lying in that obscure manner. They had been killed and whoever killed them, had arranged their bodies in such a way that they formed a word. Just a common, ordinary, non-scary word that shook Yuri to the bones: _ROSE_

And their blood. The blood was all smeared across the floor in a simple outline of the flower. A red rose.

"What is it Captain?" DeWolff asked from below. She was standing right next to the upper curve of of the _R_ of _ROSE_. At the left upper corner.

Yuri was speechless for a moment. Then she regained consciousness and spoke, "DeWolff, we'll need to run facial recognition on each one of them."

"Yes, Captain."

"And DeWolff, come up here and see. All of you."

It was then that they heard a shot somewhere from somewhere above.

* * *

Miles had been outside on the terrace when the gunshot sounded and people rushed out. He crawled towards the edge and looked down. From there he had had a better view of the chaos on the street. He could see the police engulfed in a swarm of terrified people.

He broke open the window and crept in. There were several screams of men down there. Miles was on his way to the staircase when a hand touched him from behind and he turned around.

It was a man dressed completely from head to toe in gear. Not a single inch of his skin was exposed. A metallic helmet with visors, boots on his feet, protective pads on his elbows and shoulders and what looked like a thick bullet-proof vest engulfed him. He was holding a gun in one hand.

Miles jumped back and shot his webs at the robber before he could even make a move.

"Blond lady," the guy said, "Blond lady here to get me. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. Don't kill me! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"What are you talking about?" Miles said, not understanding what the guy was saying.

"Please, Spider-Man, please! Stop her." He motioned with his chin behind Miles. "Stop her. She's coming. You can do it. I can't do it. Let me go from here. Leave me!"

Miles tuned back. He looked carefully. But there was no one.

When he turned back, he understood that it was a trick. He almost regretted turning his back on the robber. There was another guy dressed in the same way, possibly the other's partner, who was aiming his gun at Miles. But before Miles could even think of what to do, the guy fired.

Miles knew it was too late to make a move. He wasn't as skilled as Peter. Perhaps not even half as strong as he was before he had disappeared.

He was surprised when he found himself still in one piece, alive, standing on the same spot he had been standing seconds before. He looked down at himself for any bullet wound, but there were none.

" _Die_!" the new guy snarled, "Miss Baxter! Just _die again_!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Miles asked, stepping away from the new guy's line of firing.

The guy didn't even seem to have noticed him. He was looking at the far wall.

"Ronald Stone's back," he said to his webbed-up partner.

"It's the woman in blond hair," said the partner.

"Alright, enough!" Miles said, and shot his webs at the new guy. He missed. The new guy suddenly noticed him, and pointed his gun at him.

Miles shot a web at the gun and pulled it away, and then swinging from the ceiling, landed a kick right at the new guy's face, sending him flying back. The guy went immobile. Miles wrapped him in webs and rushed down.

He hadn't even reached the third floor when he spotted a few other robbers in a room with its door open, beside the staircase. They were dressed in the same sense as the two above. They all tied up. There were six of them.

He rushed over to them. He noticed they had been badly beaten up. Their helmets had been removed. Four of them were unconscious. Two were awake.

Miles stood before them.

"Who are you guys?" he asked.

They looked up at him.

"What the hell does it matter to you?" one of them asked. He had short jet black hair and a young face. Very young. Maybe not more than twenty.

"What are you doing here? And who did this to you?"

"Who did this? Our own team mates did-"

"Spider-Boy," the detective woman came in, followed by three other policemen. Then her eyes fell on the tied-up group. "There were more? That's right. We heard the gun shot. Good job, kid."

"Um," Miles said, "It wasn't _actually_ me who did this. They were already here, bound, when I saw them. And…and the gun shot. It wasn't from here. It…it was above. On the eighth floor. There are two more up there. Maybe they did this to these guys. I…I tied them up."

She nodded.

"Officers," she told two of the policemen. "You stay with them. I'm going upstairs." The detective woman rushed out of the room with the third officer.

"Wait," Miles called out to them, "What about me?"

The two police men in the room looked at him.

"You go downstairs," one of them said, "The Captain might need to talk to you."

"Right," Miles said and was heading out of the room.

"Wait," the other called at him. Miles turned to them. "Are there any more of them? On the other floors of the building?"

"No. I don't think so. I used the stairs, and I…don't think I saw…felt anybody."

" _Right_ ," the other officer said, who had spoken to him before, joked, "He didn't _feel_ anybody. Thanks kid. Now go off to your daddy."

That ticked off Miles a bit. Mocking him, he could tolerate that somehow, but saying something about his dad, well that wasn't good. He was about to retort, when he stopped himself and rushed down.

* * *

Miles couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Just earlier that day, MJ had asked Yuri why the flower mattered so much to her and the detective woman. Now he understood why. Standing next to Yuri on the gallery, he looked down at the many dead bodies below him, all stacked up forming "ROSE" and their blood on the floor, drawn in the outline of a rose.

He shivered.

"It's them?" he asked Yuri.

"Most probably."

Miles looked down and closed his eyes. "This is bad."

He opened his eyes to see Yuri looking at him.

"You should go home," she told him. "Don't you have school or something?"

"Yeah. I…do. I went to school today."

Yuri raised her eyebrow.

"Don't you have… _homework_?"

"Yeah we do have."

"Didn't you get any _today_?"

"Yeah we did."

Yuri relaxed. "Then why are you here?" Yuri crossed her arms, which reminded Miles of his fifth grade teacher questioning him for doing his classmate's homework.

"I want to help, Captain. I want to do something meaningful with these powers. Help people. Serve them. Like Spider-Man."

"Look, kid. I agree you want to help, but you'll have your time one day too. You are too young now, and if you tell me that even Spider-Man was of your age when he started out, I'll tell you this. Spider-Man landed up in a lot of trouble and almost got himself killed numerous times. Now don't tell me that you want to do that like him too. You understand? Firstly, protect your family. Your world. _Then_ protect others. I hope you got it?"

Miles didn't answer.

"I hope you did, kid," Yuri said and went away.

"Uh.'..Captain?" Miles called out to her.

Yuri turned back. "Yes?"

"I think I know who did this," Miles said, pointing at the dead bodies below. "On the eight floor are tied up two guys in full gear, and for no obvious reason they seemed to be muttering about some Miss Baxter and a lady with blond hair. They were muttering another name, a man's, but now I don't remember what it was. It was as if they were seeing ghosts. And…on the fourth floor are six men all tied up, and I didn't do it," Miles said the last five words holding up his hands, "And nor did did the police. Two of them were awake when I saw them. Two officers are up there with them, and detective woman…um…lady, and-"

"Detective woman?" Yuri smiled a little.

"Yeah. I forgot the name. That lady who assists you. Some Wolf."

"That's Detective DeWolff," Yuri corrected him.

"Yeah. So Detective DeWoll and a third officer has gone up to the eighth floor. I think the two on the there did this, because they were the only ones free and mobile. Plus, one of the men on the fourth floor was saying one of his own team mates did that to him. Tie him up."

"Thanks," Yuri said and left.

* * *

Bernard had been working for the Osborn family for thirty-four years now, since the time Mr. Osborn's father had been alive.

The Osborns had been nice to him, and he had always been very grateful to them. Hence, the thirty-four years of service, and god knew how much more ahead. He was paid well and treated well, just like a part of the family. He was happy to be with them till he breathed his last. He had no other family of his own. He had never married and had no children. The Osborns were pretty much what he had left.

The mistress, Emily Osborn had been a very loving lady, much like someone he would have preferred for his own daughter to be like, had he had one. Young Harry Osborn had been a pretty decent and down to earth child. He still was, only that Bernard hadn't heard from or of him for some time now. He had been only told that Harry was away to Europe and was seeing a doctor for some illness. But Bernard had his doubts. There was more to it.

Now coming to Norman Osborn, he was a pretty good man too, no matter what the news or the press said, but something lately had been disturbing him a lot.

He wasn't his usual calm self. He was all too jump now. Bernard would often find him locked up in his room, not coming out for hours, and sometimes Mr. Osborn would not return home for days.

Something was wrong, and it scared Bernard.

And what he had been at looking now scared him even more.

The yellow rose that had been addressed to Mr. Norman Osborn was packed in a cardboard box with a sliding lid. And the cardboard box had been wrapped in an old newspaper.

Something about the newspaper caught Bernard's eye.

Bernard may have grown eighty years old, but his eyesight, by God's grace was still healthy. He didn't require glasses.

He brought the crumpled newspaper in his hand under the light. One of the headlines of the newspaper read, " _Dead Man On Sea Shore Found Adorned With Roses_ ". Bernard looked at the date. 1979. His hands trembled, looking at the yellow roses he put near the sink. The newspaper had yellowed out. He searched if there was any place mentioned. There was. It had been in California.

Then it caught Bernard's eye that the package hadn't been wrapped in a single newspaper. There were other torn newspaper pieces, as many as twelve, all attached by transparent tape. As he looked closer, he found they were clippings all about some or the other unsolved murder cases which involved, in some or the other way, roses: " _Missing Girl Found Buried With Roses_ (Boston, 1966)", " _Thief Dead On Flowery Bed_ (Baltimore, 1983)", " _Police Finds A Hand With Roses_ (Philadelphia, 1974)" , " _Butcher Butchered_ (Jersey, 1988)".

Hands trembling, Bernard brought the newspapers close to his eyes.

And then. And then he saw it.

Above the label that had Mr' Osborn's name and his address were the highlighted words of the article which read: " _Be warned."_

Bernard couldn't believe what was happening. This was not a coincidence. It could not be. He had to warm Mr. Osborn. He had to. Right now.

He hurried downstairs to his room, and knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again. No. There was no response. Bernard looked at his watch. Five minutes to seven. Norman Osborn didn't go to bed at this time of the evening.

Then why wasn't he responding?

He knocked again and waited for another minute. Still there was no reply. No. He couldn't wait. No matter what Mr. Osborn would say, he was entering the room. He was not going to let him die.

Bernard pulled open the door.

Norman Osborn wasn't there.

* * *

It was only when Yuri was on her way to her office, seated on the passenger seat of the car, when she felt something hard on her seat. She looked at it. There was nothing. Puzzled, she reached into her left back pocket, and touched something hard and cold. She pulled it out. It was a black colored pen-drive.

She was puzzled even more. She didn't remember bringing any such thing with her. She didn't even remember possessing any such pen-drive. She put it into the inner pocket of her jacket, when she felt something papery. She pulled it out, pen-drive in her hand.

It was a torn piece of paper.

On it were printed:

" _Don't worry. There's no bug in it. Just open the pen-drive before twelve tonight, and it is highly recommended you do it at your office."_

How did this end up in Yuri's pocket? Yuri didn't remember leaving the jacket anywhere. She always had it with herself. She would either be wearing it, or she would have it folded at the back of her chair. Or she would be holding it if she didn't have it on. No. It couldn't be at the NYPD. Then how come…Wait. Wait.

Now she knew how. That woman. That woman inside the building they had met when the entire crowd of people inside it had already exited. The woman that came out at last. She had pulled at Yuri's jacket, she remembered now. Tugging at it wildly. Tugging for a good ten seconds. She must have dropped it.

And the pen-drive. Yes. When the people had swarmed out of the place. They had almost knocked Yuri out of balance, brushing against her. That was how it must have happened. Someone must have dropped it into her back pocket then.

And now she understood.

The two robbers on the eighth floor. They hadn't killed the ones on the ground. Most probably they didn't; Yuri wasn't sure, but _most_ probably it wasn't them. And also, it might not have been them who had tied up the men on the fourth floor. No. _Most probably_ not. They were all in the same team, perhaps. And they were lucky. The ones on the eighth floor. They were lucky to be alive. But Yuri still didn't get it. Why kill all those men downstairs, but leave six of them all tied up and alive on the fourth floor? Had the two on the eighth floor escaped? Whatever it may be, Yuri realized that they hadn't caught all the robbers. They hadn't caught the people who worked for Rose.

Yuri felt betrayed. She felt foolish. They had gotten away right under her nose.

She closed her eyes and leaned back on her seat, feeling defeated for the first time in many years.

* * *

Miles had to admit. He was a bit tired. He had left home early that morning and before and after school, he had spent a lot of time in his mask searching for Peter. Each and every corner of the city he could think of, or he could see.

No Peter.

After leaving the theatre, he came home, took a shower and now was on his way to MJ's. He had to meet her. She had been down for the last three days.

He knew there was more Yuri had to say to him and MJ, other than the fact that Peter had drawn into the river and that Octavius and Martin Li were found dead with roses. But she didn't say anything else, maybe because she didn't think it was necessary. Mostly though, he had a feeling she didn't want him involved. That angered him a little. But now there were other things at hand. He had to continue his search for Peter, and if possible, go out and investigate. But for that he needed someone, and none other than MJ's face came to his mind.

He walked across the corridor, past the aged-looking man who was vacuuming it, and stood before MJ's door. He knocked at it.

MJ opened it almost immediately. But she parted the door only a little.

"Oh, Miles." At first she seemed happy to see him, but then she looked disappointed. She must have been expecting Peter. She stepped aside. "Come in."

Miles walked in. She closed the door behind him.

Her apartment was dark save for the lamp faintly glowing next to her kitchen.

In the lighted darkness, though, Miles saw MJ's face. It had become thin and dry and gleamed a little below her eyes.

She had apparently been crying.

He could not find the right words to start with.

"MJ," he said, walking over to the switch board, "Why have you kept the place so dark?"

"No, stop!" MJ cried and rushed over to Miles and pulled his hand away, which had almost switched the lights on. " _Don't_ switch on the lights."

"But why?" Miles turned to her, withdrawing his hand.

MJ nervously looked around herself and then at the window. The curtains had been drawn.

"There are people watching this place," she said, her voice very low.

"Watching you?"

"Yeah, I think. That man on Fifth Avenue wasn't the last. Now there are more, Miles. Not one but more. So far I counted six of them."

"Where are they?"

"One's at the terrace." MJ shivered as she said.

"And?"

"One's at the building to the left and another at the one to the right. One has taken his position in the terrace of the building in front of this one. I think I saw one at the back."

"That's five. Where's the sixth?"

"The sixth?" MJ said. She shivered even more. "He's right outside, cleaning the corridor."

"Are you sure it's him? The one outside, I mean."

"Nobody cleans the floor at this time of the night."

Miles sat on the couch.

"Okay," he said.

"Have you heard about the theatre, Miles?"

"You know?"

MJ sat down beside him.

"Of course I do. My reporter is already there on the sight, talking to the police."

"I was there."

"You _were_?"

"Yeah. Pretty much caught them. Six people tied up, and two webbed up. That was me. I mean…not the ones tied up. But the ones webbed up."

"And what about the dead ones?"

"They were already dead when the police came."

"Did you see the message? How they were lying dead on the floor!"

"Pretty creepy. It wasn't a message, though."

MJ shrugged. "That's what. The rose."

MJ stood up and went into her room. She came out a few minutes later, her hair properly tied into a ponytail behind her. She closed her laptop which was on the floor before the couch and put it into her backpack. She unhooked her jacket from the wall and put it on.

"Where are you going?" Miles asked, standing up.

"Work. To The Bugle. These men are outside. And so you are going with me. With you around, I don't think they'll be much of a danger. Because if they were…" MJ shuddered, "If they were, they would already have done something by now."

* * *

"We ran facial recognition on each of them. Dead and alive." DeWolff sat before her computer and opened a folder. "I have all their profiles here."

"What did you find?" Yuri said, hands on her hips, standing behind the detective.

DeWolff sniffed. "All criminals. Some petty thieves and some skilled robbers."

"What about the six tied up?"

"Robbers. They are skilled robbers."

"And the two at the top?"

"Both robbers."

"Any idea what one of them was saying? About that blond haired woman coming for him?"

DeWolff sighed.

"William Jones Stewart. At first I couldn't make out what he was saying. Then I don't know why, I ran a search on his victims. He killed one. This. Look at this. It's a photograph of her."

Yuri bent down to have a proper look.

She was stunned.

The photograph had been taken when she must have been in her mid thirties. She had blond hair.

"Linda Adams. Killed in a bank heist. Ten years ago."

"Ten years? When was the last time Stewart was active?"

"About two two months ago."

"We hadn't caught him?"

"You remember three robbers had found their way out?"

"Yes."

"He was one of them."

"But then we had watched the footage. There were a total of nine of them, I remember now. All nine acted alright in the footage. Not a single sign of hysteria."

"No. It was only today."

"He has a record of mental illness? Medical illness?"

"None."

"What about the other guy?"

"Guy's name's James Phillip Turner. Mechanic turned armed robber. Earned too little for his family and turned to crime. Wife divorced. A son named Jack."

"Was he saying anything? Anybody's name?"

"None. He was quite in his senses when we found him. The other was mumbling."

"Okay. Just run a search on his victims. If he has killed anyone."

"In fact, he has," DeWolff said, opening a new file in her desktop, "Two people. A man and a woman. Not related. Going by the names of Ronald Stone and Judy Baxter. Also killed in a bank heist seven years ago."

Yuri stepped back. Whatever Spider-Kid had said played in her head.

" _For no obvious reason they seemed to be muttering about some Miss Baxter and a lady with blond hair. They were muttering another name, a man's, but now I don't remember what it was."_

Then she remembered about the pen-drive and the notice.

She looked at her watch.

8:15 pm.

She'd better see what was in it.

Now was a good time.

* * *

 **So there goes pretty much the sixth chapter. Hope you all liked it.**


	7. Pursued

**I would like to thank the guest who pointed out the mistake. Thanks a lot!**

 **Phanfan925:** **Yeah, I know I'm popping up a lot many questions, but don't worry, they will surely be answered soon. In fact I'm nearing that phase. This setting of the background (all the questions and mysteries) is almost over, and from this chapter, it's mostly progress. I hope you get it after reading it. Maybe a few questions will still pop out, but answers will be found out soon (if only I could finish this even sooner...). Apparently, Harry will be appearing a little later...**

 **Thanks to everyone who has followed and favorited this story.**

 **All of you just make my day. All of you (mentioned or not mentioned).**

 **Thanks!**

* * *

"You can come and sit inside," MJ suggested, as they stood before the entrance to the Bugle, "Or you may need to go home?"

"I'd better get going," Miles said, deciding to talk to her later as it was getting a little late. "Sure you're gonna be alright here?"

MJ looked around, then in confirmation, nodded. "Yeah, I should. Thanks."

Miles nodded his head too. "Call if you need help, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Don't be a stranger."

MJ smiled. "No. I won't."

She walked in and Miles fished out his phone, trying to call Peter at least one more time. He dialed his number, but Peter didn't pick it up.

Miles was having a bad feeling. What if when Peter had drowned, sharks or crocodiles had eaten him up? He was being stupid, but who knew? No. Miles shook his head and was about to walk down the entrance steps of the Bugle when his spider sense tingled and he caught a flash of movement from the back of his eye.

He turned around, following the movement but whoever it was must have hidden himself on a terrace in the night sky.

Miles rushed down the steps and turned to the alley next to the Bugle. He swung his backpack in his hand and brought out his hand-made mask and put it on. Then, hiding himself in the shadows, he changed into the rest of his costume, and with the bag strapped to his back, he climbed up the building up to the terrace.

He almost fell off when he saw the person lying next to his feet. He recognized him. It was the man who he had seen in MJ's corridor, cleaning the floor. Miles leaned and pulled up the man's wrist. He could feel no pulse. It was then that he noticed that the man's shirt was burnt. His burnt skin showed. And beside him lay a few red petals, and Miles knew they were rose petals.

The air suddenly turned chilly and yet Miles found himself sweating. His heart hammered inside his ribs, and he could practically hear it, his breathing synchronizing with the rhythm. He looked around for any other body. There were none. Yet it confused him if it was the same guy he had seen moments ago. But it could not be. How would someone just fly across roofs and die all of a sudden?

He heard a muffled scream to his left. He turned his head. And then he saw. Two men were on the terrace of another building a block away. One was standing, holding the other by the throat. He was wearing a mask. A white mask.

It happened in seconds. The man in the white mask turned to Miles, and following that, let go of the man held at his mercy, who just collapsed, and Miles had no doubt the man had suffered the same fate as this guy lying dead next to him. Both Miles and the white mask froze and stared at each other, but then , the latter moved. Miles followed him. He leaped across the emptiness between the building he was on and the next.

For the next five minutes, the chase had continued until Miles gained on the man, and in the last second, Miles shot out his webs at him, wrapping his legs and throwing him down on a roof. Miles accelerated next to him, and turned the man lying face-down. Just as he did that, the man in the white mask jabbed him on the face, and tore open the webbing that held his feet together.

"Who are you?" Miles asked out aloud, "You aren't the Chameleon, are you?"

"No," the man said from behind the mask. His voice was deep and modified, but something about it felt familiar. As if Miles had heard it somewhere.

"What are you doing to them?"

"None of your business," the man said and lunged at him.

Miles' sixth sense rang out, and he shifted to his right, but the man stopped himself at the right time, and catching hold of his shoulder, thrust Miles down. Miles clasped the man's foot, and pushed it to the side, in an attempt to unbalance him. But he was rooted to the spot, and didn't even budge. Instead, he pulled Miles up by the neck and landed a kick on his abdomen.

Miles gasped, clutching his stomach, and then his world turned dark.

* * *

"How long have I been out?" Peter asked.

"Three days," Gwen said.

Three days were a lot.

Peter looked down at himself. His Spider-Man costume wasn't there anymore. Instead, he had been dressed in a lose yellow buttoned shirt and brown pajamas.

Gwen looked down at the bowl of soup in her hand, and brought it up and slipped a spoon into Peter's mouth.

It was hot and had pepper. Peter figured he had caught a fever when he had drowned. He was actually feeling very heavy. But still the pains in his shoulder and leg were worse.

"I was shot."

"Yes," Gwen said, herself sipping soup from the spoon, "You were. But I removed the bullets."

"How many?"

"Two in total."

Peter nodded. Right now he was too tired to speak, but he asked.

"How did you find me?"

Gwen waved her hand.

"That's a long story. You should rest now. I'll tell you later."

"It is really you?"

"I am who I am," Gwen said, "But I don't know exactly who you're talking about. I don't know about that."

"You don't remember?" Peter asked for the hundredth time.

"No," she replied for the hundredth time, equally patiently. Then she looked up and at him in the eye, her own eyes showing despair and helplessness. "I don't know anything. Just my name. Gwen Stacy. Is all. Or was there something else too?"

Peter sighed. "You know it as only Gwen?"

"Yes. Tell me. Is there anything else too?"

"Gwendolyne, Gwen. It's Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy."

"Oh," Gwen said, bringing up another spoon full of soup to his mouth, her face full of sadness.

"No," Peter said, "I don't want more. Please."

Gwen nodded, her eyes too sad. Peter still wondered if he was dreaming. And it really felt like one. Because he perfectly remembered that night. That night when Gwen had died. Right before his eyes. It couldn't be her.

"Gwen?" Peter called to her and she looked at him. "Can you come a little closer?" Peter had to be sure.

She obeyed. Peter raised his hand, as much as the chains would let him, in turn reminding him that he had been cuffed. It all was a sign that he was trapped.

Peter's fingers crawled to the side of her neck, and searched for any irregularity on her skin. For another layer of skin. Finding none, his hands travelled upward. Behind her ears. At the side of her face. Nothing. He reached to the back of her neck. Nothing. To the back of her head. Still nothing. No. It couldn't be anyone masked as Gwen. If he remembered correctly, Yuri had told him that the Chameleon was still in prison, but the technology of his mask had found its way out. But this couldn't be anyone disguised as Gwen, because Peter felt her breath. The scent. The way she was breathing. It _was_ Gwen. There could be no mistake. But yet, how? How had she survived? And even if she did, where had she been all this time? These six years?

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked, noticing Peter's eyes all swelled up with tears.

"Nothing," he whispered, now confirmed that this wasn't any imposter. And the way she had narrated about waking up in a hospital. It had to be real. "I missed you."

"But I don't even know you."

"No. You just don't remember."

Peter was about to say something, when he felt her breath extremely near him, and she lessened the distance between them. It was not another second, when he felt her lips on his. He shouldn't be doing that, but he remembered the last time he reacted upon this, and what it had brought upon Gwen. No. He couldn't let her go through all that now, not again. Not now. It was a miracle that she was here, a scar running down the side of her face, but still here.

They stayed like that for a while, and then she pulled away.

"If you don't remember," Peter couldn't stop himself from saying, "Then why do you do this?"

"I…I…" Gwen stammered, tears flowing down her cheeks, and Peter held out his hand to wipe them, almost regretting why he had said that, his doubts that it _was_ her even clearer now. It had to be her. But then the chains pulled back and he was brought back to the present.

"Gwen," he decided to say after all, "Why have you tied me up with chains?"

Gwen closed her eyes, as if going through a difficult phase, which Peter was sure, was true. But he was too panicked to think further, and he was already feeling the urge to break and run. Something just didn't feel right.

"Gwen?" he said, huffing, "Why am I in chains?"

"It's for your own good," Gwen's voice was a mere whisper. She said it as if it was something very difficult for her. But Peter couldn't understand.

"How?" Peter tugged at the chains. "How can it be good? Gwen!"

Gwen took a deep breadth. "I'm sorry," she said, standing up and turning her back to him, "It's for your good."

"Gwen?"

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, walking out of the room and gently closing the door behind her, not even once looking back.

"Gwen?" Peter cried, tugging wildly at the chains and kicking his legs, "Gwen! Let me go! Gwen! Please! No!"

Peter thrashed his arms and legs, but only to be restrained by the chains.

" _Gwen_ … _Please_!"

No response came from the other side of the room. Peter lay back on the pillow, his body extremely drained of energy, and blacked out…

* * *

When Miles woke up he was still on the terrace. The night had turned cold. The first thing he did was look at the time. It was almost eleven. Damn. His mom would be waiting and worried sick for him. So he took out his phone (which was miraculously still with him) and checked for any missed call. Yes. There were five of them, all from his mother.

He was formulating a plan about what he should be telling her, when he turned around and saw the six people now before him. He was sure they were dead. And he didn't need to look at what the red things were, clasped in their hands.

He rang up MJ.

She picked up in the third ring.

" _Miles."_

"MJ, you still at the Bugle?"

" _Yeah, I'm here."_

"How long do you plan to be?"

" _Whole night, Miles. There's a lot of work and it might be helpful in keeping my mind from worrying too much. I also need to think of something to search for Peter. Where are you?"_

"Yeah, that's the important question now."

" _Huh?"_

"MJ, do you work in a common room with the rest of your colleagues or do you have a room of your own?"

" _Uh…I do have a room of my own now, Miles. But why?"_

"Then good. Call someone up and lock yourself in the room for a while, and don't go out if you hear anything disturbing. Just stay where you are, and keep your gun ready. You have it with you?"

" _Yeah, it's with me. But… I don't understand. What's happening?"_

"I found the six guys spying on you, MJ. And they had followed us here."

" _What!"_

"Yes."

" _Where are they now? Are they still around?"_

"That's the disturbing thing, MJ. They are around, but all dead."

MJ gasped from the other side of the line.

"MJ, stay where you are, and keep your gun in hand. Keep it with you. Those six weren't the only ones following you."

" _Who else was?"_

Miles sighed.

"That same guy who killed your pursuer on Fifth Avenue, and…it's the same guy…must be the same…who has killed these men, MJ. I figured the signature. Roses and burns on the victims."

" _But…why is he coming after me? I didn't do anything wrong!"_

"I don't know what they want, MJ. Just stay there. And call me if you need me."

MJ said after a pause: _"Okay."_

Miles was about to hang up when he remembered something else.

"Hello?" he said into his phone.

" _Yeah?"_

"MJ… _if_ you see anybody with a white mask, or anybody behaving strangely, the way they usually don't, get away at once. You have my number. You can call the cops. But get away at once if you see anyone like that."

" _White mask? You saw him?"_

"Yeah. And he's the reason I'm so late now at calling you. I should have called you hours back."

* * *

"What do you want?" Peter asked Otto Octavius, who was standing before him, utter helplessness showing in his features. "I can't help you."

"I don't need your help, Parker. I ask you for your forgiveness."

" _Forgiveness_?" Peter found his tone rising. "After what you've done? Do you even know what your actions cost me? Just what your stupid revenge did?"

"To be telling the truth, I shouldn't be apologizing to you, Parker. After all, it was your fault. You had designed the neural interface. It's your fault and _you_ turned me into a monster."

Peter went cold. Because this was the last thing he wanted to hear. He always knew this was coming, but he hadn't expected to hear it right now. But it wasn't as big a surprise. Everything was his fault, eventually. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to make things right, everything was his fault: Uncle Ben's death, Gwen's death, Aunt May's death, Otto Octavius' death…

"You can't just go on blaming me like that," Peter muttered, "I had warned you about the neural interface. I had yet to perfect it."

"You didn't need time, Parker. You could have done it all at once, had you not been swinging around the city with your webs."

"Stop," Peter cried, "I've had enough of this. What I did was…"

Peter couldn't finish saying when the ground started to tremble, and Otto's mechanical arms jutted out and clasped his face, lifting him up by it. The quake got intense…

"Peter!" Otto said, "Peter! Wake up! Peter! Now! We've got to be going…"

Peter opened his eyes to find Gwen by his side, shaking his hand and poking his face.

It had to be morning now. Light streamed into the room from the open door which led to the other room.

"Get up, Peter," Gwen said in a hurry, "We need to get moving. Right now!"

Peter sat up, unable to process what was going on.

"Can you stand up?" Gwen asked him.

"I think so," Peter said, and slowly slid his feet off the bed. His hands clutched the edge of the bed. It was then that he realized that the chains had been removed.

"Stand up, Peter. We really need to get going now. They'll be here any minute now. We need to get out before they reach here."

"They? Who's 'they'?" Peter asked, slowly standing on his feet. His head suddenly felt very heavy and he sat down once again.

"Ooh, watch out," Gwen said, catching hold of his arm. Peter winced. Pain shot up in his shoulder.

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

Peter tried standing once again, this time holding Gwen's hand in support.

"We don't have time," Gwen said, wrapping his arm around her neck. "Let's get going."

"But go where? Who's coming?" Peter said as he managed to walk with her. His shin was creating problems.

Gwen didn't answer as they headed out of the room and into the next room, which Peter noticed was almost empty, except for a sofa, a wooden table which could provide seats for four, and a lamp.

Gwen pushed open the door and they walked out into a bright, warm, sunlit morning.

There was water surrounding them, and before him, next to a dock, rested a motor boat.

"We need to get moving," Gwen said, "Will you be able to cope up? You have to."

"But Gwen…who's coming?"

Gwen looked him in the eye for just a second, and turned away. She gulped. Finally she decided to answer his question.

"It's dangerous if you are found here."

"But Gwen…who? Who's coming?"

Gwen looked around. "The Rose."

* * *

 **Yeah, I know, much didn't go on in this chapter, but it's an important one.**

 **Some feedback from readers will be highly appreciated...**

 **By the way, have you guessed who the main antagonist will be here? Antagonist...or...antagonists (plural)...**


End file.
